Salim Gold
Anti-Exile
My exile from you is unamusing.
When will we know again our proud mingling?
I want you with visceral explicitness
(Metaphor’s useless, if not palpable.)
I’m a vulgar scribbler, tis true—
Prim, but dirty. I like unabashed sex.
A hypocrite is an imposter saint,
A preposterous saint. That’s not me, Laila!
I’m too antsy, my feelings too violent.
I can’t shy from our truthful dirt and filth.
Your skin is silk; your hair’s soft as feathers.
You’re a monument of bright bullion.
The desolation of travelers is, we’re
Turbulent as smoke. That’s me—without you.
Solo, I’m like an angel with dead wings.
Salim Gold, your poetry is beautiful and fluid. Every word set me on the isle! I really enjoyed all the poems. I write poetry too. I know beautiful poetry when I see one.