18 April 2012

the boy who rounded his words

tell me your words

and kiss my eyelids with
the surprise of a newborn
in heels.
try me.
eat my heart out through
my loins.
I will spread my legs and dance
along your thin,
giving lips.
paint me like one of your french
lay my feet along the right path,
the groove along your sinews
and rolling spine and lengthy
I have always been yours,
drawn from your ribs,
written with your fingers.
tell me you want my
I will drink you
into my veins,
transforming lust to life.
speak to me, now.
tell me what births
I may someday give.

01 April 2012

new meaning

put this balm on

the curve of my back and say
it will all be
okay, again.
remind me of the round tips
of your prodding fingers and
how they release the words from my
throat as misty, soundless gasps of
this simple meaning, this
yearning thirst.

speechless, I will teach you
my smell.
taste and become
yourself at sixteen,
painting me as your signature with
reaching arms as a resurrected woman
made youthful again in her own youth.

search my hands for
petals and laughter and
tell me my smell
becomes you.