Her cracked, parched lips
Scraped the back of my hand –
Each wheezing breath blew
Fresh flurries of sand-blast halitosis,
Worrying the welts etched
Into my sallow, grey skin
Causing inconsolable irritation.
But I ignored and endured;
Much as I have learned to coexist
With the itch incessant curdling my
Festering loins for these
Pasteurized years.
I allowed dust kisses to float
Down like snowflakes
To coat the meandering blue
Of my veins with a sheen
Reminiscent of vapour.
She lingered in the cleft
Betwixt my knuckles
And I half-expected her to gnaw
On their cartilage with her
Whittled gums; rubbery, toothless
And ravaged with plaque.
I would not have cared
If she did –
I would have let
Her suck saline sweat
From my dilating pores all day
If she so desired.
But she paused, seemed
To change her mind
And slowly with creaking jaw
She withdrew
Her blessing.
O My Carnation!
Whence did thou decant thy crimson?
Which foul ogre bled thee white?
Expressionless,
As an immutable sphinx I
Waited until she had turned away.
Whereupon I flung my calloused hand up to
Malnourished maw ravenously licking
At every phantom mote left behind
By dust kisses and I swear by all gods
Dead or forgotten, they still held
hertastehertastehertastehertastehertastehertastehertastehertasteher
Adding your comment:
