Fornication With Cheese

(i) My Skin Invites to Nibble


I cannot graze
even the tip of this ugliness
of the cheese-berg that is you, my city.
Moldy mountain of holes from where red eyes wink
and blind teeth bite to tatters soft doughy things; dark windows of vice
thick with that fermenting stench
of blue cheddar-money, a sublime stink
that one cannot place the fascination for,


sour odour to the open nostril
but strangely appetizing nonetheless,
like a fetish you'd long kept submerged,
unacknowledged,
slowly rearing its head


City of blue cheese
and red-eyed mice, pointed snouts
sniff-twitching
at the stench of lust and love and greed
and envy, green-mold envy gathering
over every wedge and shred and slice
until it almost looks like greener grass
growing plush on the other side




(ii) Ascension


Still,
love comes to me
in this fallen city,
where decadence points its nose
in the direction of the bloodless moon,
and howls for its younglings that died


Then love comes to me, like a circling vulture
slowly down from the skies,
to grip in its steely talons
my raw bleeding heart, and rise