Summer 1991 • Vol. XIII No. 3 Poetry |

Los Amantes

I play marimba on your rib cagewhile you whistle through my thighbone. We click clack up down escalators, you rattling around me taking tiny elegant steps, whisking your skirt from side to sideas if to fan the flames my feet stamp out. We rub our pelvises together, rolling across dry beacheslocking our bones in a romantic puzzle, you wearing my teeth on your ankle, I wearing your hips around my neck. Who can say this was a man and this was a woman? My bones love your bones.And when I am rich enough to buy skin for you, I will stretch it over your boneslike paper over a kite. What a pair we will make, strolling the avenue in the evening—me in top hat and tails, you with your skeleton of blue fox slung carelessly over one shoulder. 

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

The Story of Keys

By Richard Garcia

I play marimba on your rib cagewhile you whistle through my thighbone. We click clack up down escalators, you rattling around me taking tiny elegant steps, whisking your skirt from […]

All Wet

By Marie Ponsot

I play marimba on your rib cagewhile you whistle through my thighbone. We click clack up down escalators, you rattling around me taking tiny elegant steps, whisking your skirt from […]

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.