Lot's
Prayer
Lord, Moab and Ben-Ammi
come in from the fields
and sit beside the fire
like two hungry lions
and in their eyes is a lust
I once knew only in dreams
when I was also a lion,
and a woman with skin
as white and grainy as salt
lay beneath me silent.
My spine curved above
and into her and I took her
up in my arms and legs
and bound her to me
so that nothing would come between us,
not even fear or angels
or the voice of you, Lord—
then I saw that she was salt
and I licked her
until I felt a thirst as deep as anguish.
Not a night goes by
that I do not wonder
at these boys and how they could be mine,
how out of salt they roar like lions.
Puerto Vallarta, Bahía de Banderas
The fluke cuts through the membrane of the sea.
When I look at machines they break
a blonde woman says from a lounge chair.
The young Germans loiter in the sun.
One has removed her bikini top.
Nothing but a thong, might as well be nothing.
The t-shirt vendor comes, all that cotton on his arm.
She scoops up from the sand, a bitch
on all fours, hot from the sun,
and the boy with chiclets comes up behind
her bared rump. Perhaps she has forgotten
where she is. The t-shirt she chooses
goes into her backpack, she back into the sand.
I'm not kidding, the woman says,
I gave up grinding my own coffee.