Valentine to a Four Corners Girl

by Adrian C. Louis

Moth-shaped leaves bang
again & again against
the basement window.
Snow-filled winds curse
against my rented house
at forty miles per hour.
I’m plump, nude, & waiting
for the washing machine
to finish its mad dance.
I live alone & haunt
myself with lies about
forgotten flesh while
dormant desires feast on
my increasing forgetfulness.
If the true God manifested
in this Minnesota basement,
I’d mince about & wink,
but if Satan popped up
I’d sell my tight ass
without blinking for
just a few more years.
Just a few more
years with you.