My hands form with multigrain   

your many faces,

it’s lips rehearse the things you say.

An egg fries 

below, 
the burner procrastinates it's task and 

the past 
will repeat itself 

turn it 

        down

turn it       
                     down

                                    .

                                        .      

….

Your eyes

light with Neptune
absolved in blue,

they lead to nowhere…

Yet

were they two fruits

ripe with juice

I would eat them.

Perhaps then they would speak their truths.

Tossed back and forth 
in my mouth syllables burst 
as my teeth tear into rind

but where ripeness resides,
must hide.

Suckling tongue

I pray for sweetness to confide 

my lips puckered,

where your kisses remain

if only I'd let the sun do it’s job

but sometimes

you just can’t wait.