by Karlo Silverio III Sevilla
The Neighborhood Exegete
That 50-year-old who “loves children” must be avoided,
they said.
He’d done it again and again but was never prosecuted,
the elders said.
But he had a biblical theory humming in his head,
I said.
When Adam started touching himself, it was decided,
he said,
To create Eve, and that’s the story never decoded,
as he said
To me when I was seven years old, sitting on his bed,
I said.
With his hand pressed on my thigh, but it never ascended,
I’ve always said.
Enviably Earthbound
To lose count of the endless stars
not due to lack of diligence
but upon realization that to love
is not to look skyward
but to see eye to eye
or downcast
to watch over her
as she sleeps.
To believe that each lonely star,
barring a cosmic collision,
envies this closeness.
Torrid
Smudge my lips
and the surrounding skin
with your lipstick:
where the front cheeks begin,
just a little above the chin,
just a little below the nose
(and, okay, the tip of my nose
as I commence my descent).
And I’ll smudge all yours back
but with a paler shade
of handed-down red.