Queensbury Rules


I draped my arms
Heaven-descending limbs
Curving, slanting and making
A love clutch and the lips followed suite
Armed with chewy-paste
And slowly draping in beak-like maneuvers
Lunging and slapping
When all of me took a big chunk of you out
And in that moment – when in my boxers
And holding on to you, my body inside a ring
I knew I had the technique to play the game
And it was my lust and your desire, knuckling it out
On a mattress with four corners
To play with one set of rules – and here they call it a match
As bodies are macerated to perfection
And a gale storms the senses
As one countdown preludes a shoulder knot
Until they go to their own corners
When soreness fuses to satiety
Knowing threshing is a custom
Played on a square in a match of mismatches
When combat is a sport
And arbitration is
Love transposed.

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