Breadcrumb #556
ALEXANDRA Watson
We meet here: a congregation
of glowworms in streetlight
all thunder of pulses,
storm of torn silk & kohl.
Who suffers?
The untouched.
Me, I’m lovesick of crushed sugar,
you’ve got Remy in your sweat &
leopard eyes, a lip ring and riddims,
& piercings on your curves.
Soon, your curls spread
on my palm frond pillow.
With fingertips up slips, I paint
a poppy with no context,
a pale pink ram skull,
a hollyhock blossom, its pollan,
a coral landscape. Locate the clam
with a wink, you slick of dark road
bathed in melon skeletons & champagne,
your sleepy eyes flutter like leaves.
I leave you a latticework of backscratch,
a dripping crystal storm of gooseflesh.
Don’t leave. Be mint tea, pink sprinkler, and dew.
By morning, be firefly, still twinkling.