The World Owes Them Ecstasy

By Lisa Buscani

The best lovers in the world                           

                                                                           
                    shifted from foot to nervous foot                      
                                                                           
                    in anticipation of gym class                           
                                                                           
                    smacked with the hot of dodge ball                     
                    red                                                    
                                                                           
                    as the ancient mark of victim                          
                    passes                                                 
                                                                           
                    to this year’s wuss or pussy.                          
                                                                           
                    they looked over their shoulders                       
                                                                           
                    as bitchy giggles sealed behind                        
                    smoother lips.                                         
                                                                           
                    today they are being                                  
                    punished,

                    teased into eating                            
                    disorders                                              
                                                                           
                    no one says what for.                                  
                                                                           
                    
                    The best lovers in the world                           
                                                                           
                    combed their wet hair into                             
                                                                           
                    some semblance of respectability,                      
                                                                           
                    breathed against the heaviness                         
                                                                           
                    of a temporarily unused lung,                          
                                                                           
                    and hoped that toilet was clean.                       
                                                                                                                                                                     

                                                      
                    They bit the skin from their lips,                     
                                                                           
                    cut where no one could see,                            
                                                                           
                    peeled the soles of their feet,                        
                                                                           
                    to snake from that shell of                            
                    derision                                               
                                                                           
                    to the body and face and spirit                        
                                                                           
                    which could withstand that unwanted                    
                    light.                                                 
                                                                           
                   
                    The best lovers in the world                           
                                                                           
                    remember who they had to be                            
                                                                           
                    on those wincing, bright-chilled                       
                    mornings,                                              
                                                                           
                    those bone-angled afternoons,                          
                                                                           
                    and they try to forget it in your                      
                    skin;                                                  
                                                                           
                    they take the numb moments full                        
                                                                           
                    of all the falling we can know                         
                                                                           
                    and kiss them away,                                    
                                                                           
                    remembering with eyes and hands                        
                                                                           
                    that selective amnesia is passion’s                    
                    best reward.                                           
                                                                           
                    once-frayed nails trace                                
                                                                           
                    the down of necks and backs,                           
                                                                           
                    the split of ass,                                      
                                                                           
                    the vee-hollow thigh.                                  
                                                                           
                    once bruised lips drag from spine                      
                    knot to knot                                           
                                                                           
                    fed on a combination of intuition                      
                    and need.                                              
                                                                           
                    your breath’s slow rhythm                              
                                                                                                                       

                    the earth’s only time piece,                           
                                                                           
                    your final fold                                        
                                                                           
                    no final arrival,                                      
                                                                           
                    your moan the signpost                                 
                                                                           
                    of unimagined winnings.      

                          
                                                                           
                    The best lovers know                                   
                                                                           
                    The world owes them ecstasy.                           
                                                                           
                    And they will collect.