V-Day.

chocolate-covered-cherries

There was a dead raccoon
Established stark,
In the entrance of the gazebo.
A shadow covered up to its neck
Like a bed-sheet.

And then it was
Maraschino cherries,
Situated between
Her pale incisors and molars.
Bitten,
I minded blood
Or
A
Snack?

Lips blinked words.
I saw conversation as action.

Couldn’t recall
When I tasted perennials
Instead of boiled ethanol.
Inside a kiss.

She blinked words.
Promised Maraschino cherries,
But muscle memory was baffled by the lucid.
So it was
Blood for alcohol,
Alcohol for courage.

Her lips felt like wilting petals
From a flower dying of dehydration.
But I preferred her labials torrid.
For every time she licked to moisturize,
The flavor of alcohol reentered the air.
I was reminded of the failed promises
A lack of moisture provides.

But if her lips were the petals
Her wrinkles were the roots.
Parched.
Striving to demonstrate
Why this aperture
Should remind anything to blossom.

“Hold still.” I said, kicking the raccoon’s corpse.
“Sometimes these animals play dead for safety.”
The mammal reacted to the force,
Motionless as a bone.

I was delighted to watch her smile grow.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s