tacit aurora
I sat down to pray
at your fine wine-flavored fingertip
tipped in a buttered glaze at the rim
My fingers slide down
the sweat-soaked figurine
forward faced and flashed
red flushed, begged to be drunk
I licked the lipped silhouette
slithered in light
I whisper to be polite
and you pantomime perfection
I drink you
We breathe in the same air
You pour me into drunken stupor
We both tingle and bubble alike
And I've removed from you
every last drop
I am parched
I set you down
And you kissed the table
I stumble and fight over light lines of prose or poetry
I slur in static stationery—
my sanctuary
My Eucharist
You stand poised, dripped of ink,
light brown, amber, or dirty blonde in the right light
I am common and unmatched
I gripped you tighter
I delight in you once more
I trace my hand in the dark
I rip, I bear, I fight
Burn me down
Boiled skin
Heat and ember
Until I've learned to love and love the bite
Let me read you lines of poetry
and drink you until day becomes night
open violet