The Boxer Reads To Me

Sit here, I dare you, again for
     Sakhalin, salon moments, pore
     over the Poet, crease of hip cut
     before me like diamonds, spine
     coilsprung to recite. Talk to me
     about LaMotta, the animal, warm
     bright rocks on me the primal the
     literary ones, you are coal walls
     lit up, it's dark, I'm awake with you.
     I scribbled hearts on your wall, don't
     ask me which books I stole, indecision
     could kill, just touch me, here in the blue.