V.D.

By Ed Gavin

With a girl like Aphrodite

it's easy to forget each touch

is only visceral. Let her

squeeze your lemon, and you'll go home

with the juice in a paper cut.

Kiss her, she tastes of broken glass

and promises, a cold gray ash

upon your tongue. But each adieu

only brings her that much closer

to burning you alive again.

Aphrodite is a goddess

in heat. Tell her, "I can't see you

anymore," she nods and smiles.

Everyone knows why love is blind.


Ed Gavin lives in an apartment overlooking the pub and burrito joint where he works as dishwasher and bar-back, jobs conducive to poetry, black humor, and noir.