Retrieval

Let this sewer regurgitate me, up
to the shade that is light, replenish me
in the decay of life, let flakes not stop
the seed of guilty love I feel, still feel.

Dissention laps from my membrane,
the wilting lilt of farts that emanate
though once habitual, now feels strange
to feel no dust flake from this skin-space.

You feed your prophylactic skin/string down
through drain-slit to scoop my feigned frown up.