[The Eye of Silence, Max Erst, 19943]
The Sensual Being Foresees No Change
She has AIDS.
Lying tired day after day,
unresistant to swarms
of in;sects wheeling like efficient machines
ready to plant death under her skin
and then take it to another sensual being.
The bloodthirsty stab
as she lies in the hammock,
a miniature insertion
so like the grander ones
of before–craving more and many,
filling her bodily hollow in spasms
of moments, never enough–
I watch her and resolve
never to make love, never
to tremble with indiscriminate need,
knowing our affliction
is not so easily purged.