Sex and Murder Magazine

By Joseph M. Gant

whatever I have, I use right away.
whatever is gone, I only want more.

32 Valentines burn on the table;
blood grows thick in the fire. desire
in the touch of the flame; the growth of the dead,

the death of the pieces growing apart, undoing
and doing over the scene. wretched my ways;
the repent of the blade, no absolution found
in what I see here.

damnation for taking
the last of the breath from she, who gave all
and touched the point and edge of my love—
desire so heavy and thick—unmasked . . .

32 Valentines burn on the table.
but hearts moist boil in the rolling steam,
tears of the moment and the many to come

remorse is no exit, no exit for all, but ties
to the deed—a tether to this present forever.
the point and the edge, the touch of the blade,
the rear view smoke, the screen of confession:

whatever I have, I use right away.
whatever is gone, I only want more.