Sunday, March 10, 2013

Milk and Honey

I have killed myself, sweetly
bare around the throat
stained with dried cherry

Her long body, eaten thin
mouthful of plump berries
licking the corners of a candied moon
velvet moist, peeling apart a tender crust

When he is with me, delicate white
sour sweet, pouring
over a blood clot night

Silk cotton hour casts a shadow of empty morning
I foam to the top of the cup
Our moment full of sugar washes to the shore
where he once served me, warm milk and honey

*Written for the Sunday Mini-Challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads,
where Grace is hosting a day in the kitchen.