Kiss me in the lurid rainstorm, the gaudy
blizzard. You know how to use that tongue!
Like the succulent’s leaf, made thick with
water. Lingua sui trampoli. Tongue on stilts.
Stilted tongue. Lolling in and out of your
mouth like it can’t find its way back home.
I am the raft that comes floating down
your river, laden with misintention. If the
body is, like you say, mere machine, why
can’t you look me in the eye? You are swollen
and semi-confident. You remind me that all parts
of the daffodil are toxic, and thank god for that,
because otherwise I would milk the yellow petals
and drink their sicksweet petaljuice.
I would let it drip down my chin!
