breastmeat
the tongue was made to testify
to speak when the promise comes protruding
to lay under oath with tastebuds required
a sommelier of mortal shells
distinguishing lustful contempt from
some mere, facetious contemplation
recording that infectious moment
when jarring spit becomes dulcet saliva
and your body beneath bends to my will.
before it blossoms. before it broods
and it breaks completely open.
8 thoughts on "breastmeat"
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Good one
fantastic.
“when jarring spit becomes dulcet saliva
and your body beneath bends to my will.”
beautiful.
… your body beneath bends to my will. Such is the way bodies should bend.
Your title drew me in!
this is beautiful. “sommelier of mortal shells” is such a gripping line…juxtaposes death’s inevitability with the jarring and dulcet saliva of life/sex/creation.
it’s a master class on eros and the word.
i used to be known as a romance poet… “love is in need of love today” and im just trying to get back to my roots.