Your Sweetness Is My Weakness

after Barry White

The palms of our hands
were palm trees: rugged,
evergreen, looming.
Each time we touched
we bore fruit, made
tiny orchards of our
affection, proof that our hearts
beat, that we had feelings once.
                                                        When the world collapsed
                                                        from the weight of its sins
                                                        there were only coconuts &
                                                        power. Terrified of solitude,
                                                        the powerful kept
                                                        the coconuts company.
                                                        They grew hungry, of course,
                                                        & slurped the sad juices of
                                                        murdered fruit into stiff bellies.
The weakness of power
is mostly dancing. How,
Just before the ruin, we
spun to soul, baring our
laughter to each other’s
movement. Yes—just us—
in the dark of our country,
buckling at the swell of music.

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