PIEL DE MIEL

INTERLUDE

young tongues licking young lungs
hoping to taste the milky moon of midnight
gimme more! gimme more!
their hearts are break away like papier-mâché
fingers are burning primrose paths like
rain pounding into the parched gutters
(it hasn't stormed for long enough)
their blackened fingernails carve into gilded flesh
hoping to create a sculpture painted by van gogh
please remember me in the swing of your hips
don't listen to the way the oasis moans
let the vines bloom out of his throat
with the petunias budding
into his eyelids (flutter like butterflies)
just make sure to carry me home
and lick over my palms
(i've planted sun-glazed grass
if you get tired of my skin)
and paint my heart with your lemon milky blood.