Sex As A Martyr Poem by Joshua Bantum

I hear her heart beat
Tranquil
Next to mine,
And like the first drops splashing
A quiet pond,
I feel the echoes pounding,
Reverberating from her chest,
A climax of the storm
Penetrating the heavens,
Our fire sweats the clouds
Till exhaustion

Within this bombardment of
Fallen flame
Our sheets are torched
Our cries
Drenched in silence

After,
the room is still
Like a crucifix in solitude
Upon a desolate hill
post sacrifice
And there is nothing left
But la petite mort
Floating upon the moist air
A thick fog creating absence of color

And In this shadowed memory
I remember only her voice of salvation
And again
It
Beats
Across her naked chest
Onto mine,
And we rest