2 eyes
the cold comfortable blue
of a refrigerator light
glowing in the temptation of a midnight snack.
How I rub your head
with my ngertips
and press my open palm against your skull
like I could push right through the bone
and grab a gushy handful of your brain
and take a chunk of it home with me
to devour later.
In my underwear,
off a plate,
in that refrigerator light,
like cold Chinese.
Grip my face
and scold me
for taking more than you wanted to give,
and I can feel my smile rising
push my cheeks through your ngers
like a handful of clay,
malleable in your grasp.
I’ll miss your lap
and the heat between my legs
and showering o my sticky thighs
in the quiet when I get home.
Oh will I miss the stern, saccharine voice
melting from your lips
hovering over my open hungry mouth.