{in a slippery body}

Chris Campanioni

you woke up
like this
buffed & well-lit 

as my omakase I feign
nervous excitement  
procure us

a leitmotif
panoptic view
of the theater box < peephole

in a holiday 
inn a slippery body

on a swimming pool’s
mute surface
exerting effects 

on the viewer “willy-nilly”
say sight
becomes obstacle

to sensation
my memory jogs
traces of your g-string

this commute a cradle
of relief allowing myself
to be manipulated

by your composition
writing things without 
knowing why

you emphasized
rivulet of lossy
compression my source

file you stream
from above they asked me to
make it two times

life-size to scale
we are eagerly awaiting
my peer review

all four obliques
of perspective
neck susceptible 

to famine tap
twice the fleshy replica
back in manhattan

even my chalice
foams at the counter
labyrinth of the text

a casting couch
saliva your
keepsake we are

doing this on both
legs I forgive you
for doctoring

your face I forgive
myself for tasting
of jergens original

healing the milk
truck approaches our rear
as I hum your hymn this close

crop sweetens
my mirror
you mouth

full I fill
my syntax
looking to give

off sensodyne gentle whitening
muscles still
beating after the act

an encore we scope
bridge & tunnel mystique
basic like the questions

of sexuality
hesitation of shape
coming into focus

exhilarating nothing sound
carrying you around
in my body our

six-dollar thigh
& drum combo
we audition elven

smirk my fellowship
of the ring I kneel
to pocket applause

untrained like the best
poets I did not ride
here on a horse I pegged

you aboard citibike 
lip copernicus while in orbit
you questioned balls

in your court
I say let’s
make this real