I opened your liquid dawn with my ring finger
drips plumed from bigger steam puffs;
I licked your crema, listened
to the ripped plush whispers
but there was nobody there, thus
I was left with a leaf’s wine:
you left
every French pressed forest murmur
here’s Kintaro bowing to your kimono
here’s an obi, wandering
the fields of the carcass savannah
countless rice paddies, falling,
gently,
into an ocean of your mouth –
the texture of bean grinds
like my stubble on your supple lips.

Your stark hips are subtle
the roof of my mouth is wettened
dank, dark, plump
loving you is like eating at lumps
of Earth loved by daisies
I feel whole sunflowers
flock down my throat as
the cup’s warm legs strangle
and curdle
and cubby horse around
my hoove mound shaped round earthen
soft like urchin, blue bird purchin’
purse of Adam’s apple, Eve’s tongue
neck.

These juices slide like merry-go rides
down moon-tides of my insides
and
sometimes I wonder how my mouth is so wide.