Breadcrumb #556

ALEXANDRA Watson

We meet here: a congregation 
of glowworms in streetlight 

all thunder of pulses, 
storm of torn silk & kohl.

Who suffers?
The untouched.

Me, I’m lovesick of crushed sugar,
you’ve got Remy in your sweat &

leopard eyes, a lip ring and riddims, 
& piercings on your curves.

Soon, your curls spread 
on my palm frond pillow. 

With fingertips up slips, I paint 
a poppy with no context, 

a pale pink ram skull, 
a hollyhock blossom, its pollan, 

a coral landscape. Locate the clam 
with a wink, you slick of dark road

bathed in melon skeletons & champagne, 
your sleepy eyes flutter like leaves. 

I leave you a latticework of backscratch, 
a dripping crystal storm of gooseflesh. 

Don’t leave. Be mint tea, pink sprinkler, and dew. 
By morning, be firefly, still twinkling.

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