the cherries fell and placed their fingerprints
between my feet like small mouths of a month
of its here its a bloody wee well of a red whale
her fluke-petals strewn long the grey and white tile

and smudge of a moth in the blossoms to clear
but im always her hem and im on the sore brink
of love with the let-jet and inky-bruise style of it
like my pussy would write her own un-willing book

would underwear-stain me an avant-garde blotch
of enfant terrible for primordial brood
elsewhere wind-egg dramatic and lithe acrobatic
some brown-wise residuum to raging en rouge

sex-flowing battle and kiss-knowing cramp
my blew-brewing worm of verbage vole-damp
a crescendo howled in my bowling-ball clamp
and how you offered to switch off the lamp

so i wouldnt need to move at all
so i lie lust-fallow-unfastened at last for now
and i shower near the violet melati that you grow
with slugs softly tucked in a wet toilet paper roll

//

🌖

//

after
the easy way out
saucy
like a bruise
cherry
&tc

& the maskmaker
who called lip balm that