Caliente, poetry by Bartholomew Barker at



written by: Bartholomew Barker



for Calista

Walking up a carpeted staircase
can’t remember how I got here
having trouble telling dreams
from reality— don’t like to judge

There’s a warmth to my side
a hand in the crook of my arm
I see long legs cascading
from a shimmering violet dress

We’re in a little velvet room
I can’t unstick a hair from my lips
feeling hot and cold like my feet
kicked from beneath a comforter

Her body presses against mine
like a pillow after a night
absorbing body heat — caliente
grins a voice dripping Merlot

If only she’d bite my neck
then I’d know for sure
if I need to wake up
or fall asleep

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