brittle day,
the singular flake
of your naked
obtuse ******* are
fine, "what dandies,
thick, toppled in
golden and tipped
in lightest, pink skin,"
conquers men and
flesh divine; the radiant
twin prongs of your
chest are rich, swollen,
and my fingers laid 'tween
them wreak of mint, lavender,
and they taste like warm blood
that i can barely fit inside (but
you like like it and drag me into
snarling night
                          (