Bill Wolak is a poet who has just published his eighth book of poetry entitled Whatever Nakedness Allows with Cross-Cultural Communications. He has published poems in Clean Sheets, Bare Back Magazine, Literarily: Erotic, Featherlit, and Meat for Tea. He is currently working on a translation of the Italian poet Annelisa Addolorato with Maria Bennett. Mr. Wolak teaches Creative Writing at William Paterson University in New Jersey.
When Love Ends
When love ends,
your body slams shut
like a locked door
that still dreams
of becoming a window,
and all the memories
of the only one
who could touch you
vanish like forgotten keepsakes
abandoned to a junk drawer
in a faraway house
that burned to the ground.
Fire Writhing Against Wood
Dust warms when your legs bend around me
like a scarf embracing the wind.
From the fiction of your thighs,
cold ashes become embers again.
When your body caresses mine
like fire writhing against wood
your flesh draws me inside you,
and I thrust first faster then deeper.
as you give me your mouth again
with the kiss of a tree falling into water.
The Statue of Lightning
For those who will do anything in the dark.
the inexorable momentum of nakedness
begins like breakwater disappearing into thick fog
as the rain’s eyes of dust wink
from shadows in a leather suitcase
knowing the stowaway’s whereabouts
because the man holding a ladder turns suddenly
knocking over the statue of lightning
with nipples the color of everything fire touches
when a wayward finger follows
the warm crotch seam of your jeans
to the point of no return on the map of desire
where the password is always now.