sweet pea, sweet tea, sweet potato—
love’s blush red, soft as a tomato.
kisses like a recital,
tongues dancing together,
smiles too wide, they crease teeth,
and stuck there forever.

a boiling *** touch, a stove-top man,
hot-headed, cooling down as fast as he can.
unread texts on the nightstand,
after a one-night stand— holding onto
a cheap thrill, it's just a heavy hand
so sad!

a thirsty kiss trying to buy back time,
swallowing coins like medicine—
quarters down the throat,
all of those pennies in a rhyme.
hoping for change. but the clock
just swallows, and it doesn’t rewind.

crumb stains on fingers,
love shouldn’t taste like fast food.
fast and crude, but hunger plays
its tricks— and we eat what’s near,
even it's not true.

fringes in both eyes, a bite
of apple pie—the kind you’d
call the apple of your eye.
but sigh—still
no husband or a wife.

just two souls giving it their best try.

that they did that to a child
with a hedge blocked off
the exit
cold dark now
calling, until tiny gave up
a fox showed  the way through
those impossible high, impossibly thick hedges?
to fall asleep in the arms of
Old Mother and Old Father
who covered her with their big coats
they were like good Presidents
when she asked where they came from
they showed her the golden highway
she had never seen before
how did it reach like so into the sky?
they told her  how she was a child of Israel
cold and hungry
they gave her manna
tasted like bread and honey
so sweet it made her sleep
there the gardener found her
blue with the cold, shivering and feverish
he revived her among the cinders
in blankets he lovingly tended her
with warm milk
the doctor came
the baron called
he stroked his pointed beard
while they talked gravely
send her home
she never saw that gardener again
Old Mother and Old Father sent him
thanks

you are the corner of my eye
the pizza of my pie
the apple of my
                            cornea