by Precious Jones

is it crazy
that I need to consume you
as a monsoon consumes the coast
of Taipei entirely,
as if the beloved consumption
were the beginning and the end,
a wild birth of world
razed by wild love, ancient,
a serpent swallowing its
forked tongue?

I want to reconcile our legs
arms, and hands,
the white heat
of our black bodies
remembering their past lives
as one life,
one sweet wonder,
wounded yet alive and healing,
finally fearless, finally
as the first dawn,
the first mating
calls the flesh forward,
open and loyal to the task,
its scent rises
as the fever rises,
as this blood-red fervor
I will upon you
floats on the wind like the
sweet pea petals of a young,
Sicilian garden.

Let me inhale you.
Let me leave my imprint
upon your garden
so the sky and the river know,
so the caterpillar, the beetle
and the bee know,
so the quintessential admirer
of gardens knows
you bloom too fiercely
for their flimsy souls
and reserve yourself
for me
to be
like the antelope
by the lion who shall feast
this day
and everyday forth,
replaying its golden form
spent and sated
with the spirit
of its prey

Copyright © 2007. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.

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