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Michael Amato 

Slides 

Where purple blood 
stains the fabric geometrically 
a woman instructs the boy 
in its use 
weaving palm leaves 
round the edges 
His coffee skin 
clings closely to the flesh 
Her breasts 
which overflow weak bindings, 
the color of bruised salmon 

A handsome couple 
with a burnished glow 
here for the big time 
playing tennis 
on a plastic court 
They will make love 
(as they say) 
in sundown 
on the beach 
& complain afterwards 
of black grit 
lodged 
in tender openings 

One of us 
watching the other 
from the bedroom 
of a fine hotel 
Your body 
partly sunk in sand 
at water's edge 
raises compulsions 
as I kneel inside you 
tasting as you open 

On a hot street 
her dream walks 
side by side 
a man with long 
mysterious hair 
Warm skin 
she aches to touch 
prepare with insistent probes 

perfect teeth 
drawing sweet blood 
from his shoulder 
(A chartered compass 
idles on charts 
opened 
to tropic archipelagoes) 

I. 

A gray couple 
standing side by side 
smiling 
under a dead king's gaze 

Seabirds 
picking stale bread 
from a bronze boy's hand 

25 




