The Sonnet of the Trinity
by Carolina Acevedo Gomez
He becomes me. The self inside the man
longing to be without the flesh that contains
him. Contained, to be kept
from reaching out toward the sun,
to embrace the warmth of anything outside
the meat—it is gamey and stringy anyway.
Oh, to fly toward a dream beyond a cage
of soft muscle and slender waist.
Wasting away in the dream,
though he wants more, carnivorous,
all-consuming fiend and only friend
of greed and gluttony. SLAVE to sex,
SLAVE to the sex. SLAVE
to the he, the me, the self inside.