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!

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