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Milk & Honey
I wanted to be fully summer-streaked,
reduced to just rum and honey;
wanted him to enter the darkness
and demonstrate his ruins;
wanted his careful cleave, a flame
brash and lit in single strides
and slug this secret down
with his foreign tongue.
I wanted my ears runneled with milk,
pitcher-filled, then, sensibilities
of our sweet nothings.
I wanted his impulse to wreck this entirety,
his sleight, to challenge my ontology.
I wanted; all and more, so much
it resembled theft: Desire.
Desire, when Eros died, famine
struck my bones in the
cradle of winter.
The ember lied—
the thirst had razed
all the milk and honey—
After that, my skin scorched up
and wanted nothing to do with me.
© Mav P.
reduced to just rum and honey;
wanted him to enter the darkness
and demonstrate his ruins;
wanted his careful cleave, a flame
brash and lit in single strides
and slug this secret down
with his foreign tongue.
I wanted my ears runneled with milk,
pitcher-filled, then, sensibilities
of our sweet nothings.
I wanted his impulse to wreck this entirety,
his sleight, to challenge my ontology.
I wanted; all and more, so much
it resembled theft: Desire.
Desire, when Eros died, famine
struck my bones in the
cradle of winter.
The ember lied—
the thirst had razed
all the milk and honey—
After that, my skin scorched up
and wanted nothing to do with me.
© Mav P.
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