shark-bite

nip a little
               tug a little

nip a little
               tug a little

bite
bite
bite

then they tear a little more from you and

then you strike out,

hit a little, rip a little bit off

then you lash out,

hurt a little, cry a little bit more

still the sting burns,

yes it burns, an electric griddle

slow build and burn,

like a snake bite, see the red spot growing

soon you’re all numb,

from the nose to the bloody footprints.

they’ll think again,

‘fore they stab you with syllabic knife-falls

you’ve kept ‘em quiet,

kept them distant, now the silence swallows.

lone, you’re alone,

quite successful, just a broken shadow.

listen to the crickets

how they sing, always for another.

now’s when you feel

feel the cold, how it seeps into ya.

you’re now that shark

the solitary ‘mongst the fluid flurry.

cold beats the heart

beats the drum that will kill you some day.

like bees do

drink from the nectar
pooling
‘gainst my glands
before it seeps into the skin
and disperses,
like dew on dappled grass. 

rip out the petals
sweetly,
one by one,
as they peek out
from the covetous
calyx of my nodes.

savor the silky sensation
on the tip of your tongue,
as I pollinate your eyes,
your chin,
that delicate hollow at the base of
your throat.

you seek to make honey,
as you sting me once more.  
the viscous sap hangs low
in a swollen drip,
not daring to drop.

downwind from skinned

when you look at me
the molecules

of my being

are disheveled and rearranged
into a frenetic movement

of primordial and philosophic longing. 

The slight of your stare,
the curve of your mouth
distracts me from the cranial crash of
alphabet soup known as language. 

I falter in the light of your power,
the disarming delicatessen of

tug,

pull,

crash,

fall,

rise,

swell,

attack,

retreat. 

I contract,

e x p a n d,

swell,

and weep

in a small,

silent,

dry

manner that leaves me

puckering,

a parched, shriveled lime

with seeds gaping inwardly,

a fig once ripe,

frigid with freeze burn,

cold and tasteless,

for you are the crocus on another lily’s leaf,

floating on the sea salt roof of the world,

far above the valley that consumes me,

a      slow      savory      destruction.