Venus
Frankie David Nui Matchitt Millar (Whakatōhea, Te Arawa) is so on and so forth. personal information here. it will be a bio.
Spit on my hands that smells of you,
nestled in the cup of my shell.
It shatters!
Finger in mouth,
I crash and sputter on your edges,
becoming sea mist, or foam.
Like Venus.
Where do I meet you?
I don’t know where the shore is anymore.
Drop the addy,
then drop me back at mine,
only 30 min away.
We can watch the radio tower blink red over the waves
and you’ll tell me you have no love left to give.
Then we can swell again.
I taste salt, mouth full of sea water.
Fucka-noa
When I’ve had a rough night
or a violent hookup,
it likes to be known on my lips.
Festering, bubbling, swelling,
asking
to be seen.
You have to remember to blame yourself,
your shame is only your burden to bear.
That pain will burrow deep within my skin.
To remedy:
stay celibate
40 days and 40 nights,
you will not touch your body
or listen to it.
Repeat for 7 years.
Until your skin cells are completely new.
I wonder how long it takes for the cells on my foreskin
to regenerate.
Or my inner thigh
Or the nape of my neck.
Cut your hair five inches shorter,
let the soft ringlets fall to your bathroom floor.
Sweep them up.
Every last fibre.
Lay them outside
to be used
for the nest of a piwakawaka.
They'll be returned to Hine-nui-te-po
along with the rest of you.