A Recipe

A little suckling
I wrap my mouth; lips over teeth
around a honey comb
A garden reminiscent of lavender, sage, cilantro, poppies
A garden on my tongue
Lean close and smell my breath of clover
Lick my lops and kiss the syrup--
My honey rejuvenates the bottle topped
I squeeze but know the space will fill once more
Suckling on my neck
And a garden for my name
whispered in an ear of wheat
Salted barren land hide old wounds and I lick
Until my tongue scrapes raw
I’ll wash it off swallowing saliva,
Fluids—your taste
I take your arm above my head
Wrap your elbow to find my shoulder
I take your finger and stick the tip halfway in and
Place it on my tongue
Swells up my salivary glands
Saliva concentrating between my cheeks
Flesh I bite, suck the sweet juice
Dripping from my hand down my
Arm to my elbow
Drip, drip, drip
Onto your left big toe
Cooling the lingering burning absence
Your knee no longer wrapped around my hips





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