honey & lime

Fantasy

Her hands silk my throat like syrup

leaving sticky sunspots, the hot honey drink

I spent my childhood believing medicinal,

fairy rings around my throat.

 

It is not soft. I do not want soft. Fuck soft.

 

There’s a poster on her wall. The anatomy of a flower.

So many parts, so much about pollen

and sex. Stamen, anther, stigma, ovule,

receptacle. Open and starving.

I turn to lilies for her.

 

Under the blaze of her fingernails

I am seen. I have never felt so beautifully seen.

 

I beg her with noises

to touch me until I am baptized

in the holy water of my sweat blessed with her sweat.

 

All I have ever wanted

is to exist.