She has a Hollywood inside her,
           it turns me. He is a falconer’s apprentice,
 
but I’m gone before the mice defrost. Another,
           a Craigslist ad on the bough of a willow.
 
My lovers are all classrooms
           in the same kindergarten. A golden spoon
 
of glue for you, and you, a bicycle
           ride down my miles of legs. Did you know
 
it would get this dirty?—when I met you
           in Intro to the English Major? When you
 
slid into my Uber? At the music festival?
           Tonight?—I’m going to put a poem
 
right where your thing should be, okay?
           Our safe word is Max Seifert. I like my lovers large,
 
I like to fit my lovers inside my lovers.
           Breath of leg hair. Rub of jock salt. Then, enter
 
my kinks like a Chinese New Year parade. 
           You’re inside of me inside
 
of a growl—fresh fruit & control. I’m getting off
           on gravity, touching you there, pulling you
 
here.  This whole thing is driving me crazy: hot
           to the point of electricity, tectonic,  slippery
 
when wet, chickenbones everywhere,
           & imagination.
Max Seifert

Max Seifert

Max Seifert is a poet, editor, and power forward in Chicago. His chapbook, The Hole of Everything, Nebraska, received the 2015 Frances Kahn Award from the National Federation of State Poetry Societies. His work appears or is forthcoming in The Adroit Journal, Plain China, and the Small Plate Anthology. He works in educational publishing.
Max Seifert

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