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Lindsey
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I spit you out or swallow you
depending on the time of day
the way the light comes through
the windows, at a slant
or straight to your eyes.
I take you. Took you.
You kissed behind my knee
like butterfly wings,
carved your name in the wood
of my breast; kissed me,
swallowed me, spit me out.
Depending on the moment.
My toes curl on your blankets
or my soles arch like ballerina’s
depending on the feeling.
I watched your face turn red,
your skin turn hot, thought you
would never remember the day
we made us a forever, a continent
to travel to. By boat, by plane,
if the car breaks down I will walk
to where I think you might be.
I still wish that my hands could
just reach out and feel you.
Devoured like candy, sucked like a peach.
That we return not the canned fruit
of love, but the orchards of Jerusalem,
you can be orange. I’ll be tangerine.
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020905
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