Every Craving Finds Its Match

64px-Sexy_Mouth_transparentI cup your four flavors in my mouth:

bitter, sweet, salty, sour.


The tastes are male and female:

the miracles of a girl’s first blood,

her first lover’s sweat.

The various ways to know emptiness.


I might have known a river of wanting.

But the tides of your body mark

where I am hungry still,

a salver on a table without salt.


As if I am a meat that needs feeding,

you hunt me only to serve up yourself,

a food to be used entirely,

even the pulse, even the breath.


Here is a secret:


when your mouth purls over my breasts

what I crave crawls into me.

The stilled creature of your heart

lays out its sweet flesh.


I say mine is a woman’s body,

here is what I mean:

I have felt milk sweeten in these breasts

and know the pelt of desire is its own trophy.