by Elizabeth Vongvisith
(11/26/08)
In dreams starring you,
the sky burns white,
flowers spread open
into fang-toothed mouths
greedy for blood
in exchange for
sweetly poisonous perfume.
Your scarred lips
are scarlet-stained
as you draw back,
electric wicked grin,
surveying my torn, ripped,
soft, exquisite shoulder.
You hum softly, rub
until the stinging ache
disappears in
clouds of pleasure.
The flowers turn,
gaping towards us
while the scent rises
from between our bodies.
Razor-edged is the kiss,
saturated
as our vines and creepers tangle
beneath the pale hot haze.
Oh sweet,
sweet
is the blasted earth
under the limbs
entwined,
petals held open,
the stamen dusted with pollen.
I lick
sweat like diamonds
from your neck.
You paint yourself red
with the life of me.
Still, the flowers
stretch out longingly,
pure and unstained,
here in the field of our
wanton gardening.
The Poet's Companion - by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux