irk

there they go again. and us here
picking toes. it wreaks
of garlic. her armpits? a
fertile patch of sweatspew. throw 
back into groping arms, skin, slick
skeined lips, clayshit rub
on asshole. stand up,
step back and stare: who is
this nobody, one of us though
not of us, rising taut, pressed
into muscle till bone grinds
bone, nerves pinched and delerious?
let all penetrate all pores,
digest it.
as blades swish through
out over there, eyes
on ground, a tight nap bush, a
voice to empty yet
sign something, listens
inside the change:

impoverishment.