Sex and Murder Magazine

By Lee Clark Zumpe

not love, but hunger.
A quickening of heartbeats,
a flush of lust. Trying to get
inside each other. Peel
away the outer layers,
clawing at false impressions,
eliminating every corporeal
distraction. Mouthing
fleshy appetizers, finger
food. Hot tub stew.
Meat falls from bones,
leaving us to chew
the gristle of empty
promises and mock
affection. Someone
will have to clean up
our mess.