Outlet

Kiss my shame,
she said,
the moistened outlet
to my sealed-in history,
run your tongue, but gentle now,
gentle, over my heart-shaped booboo,
make it sing, as if the moon, a secret maestro,
was drawing the most beautiful notes
from where I hurt, where I ache …
know me in this way,
and feel time collapse
under the weight of new water,
shaped like a viscous sea
of me
and me alone.
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About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of two novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale and Raking the Dust, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at johnbiscello.blogspot.com. Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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6 Responses to Outlet

  1. I love the word booboo in this.
    And running tongues and vicious seas, all of it

    Like

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