1955

by india southgate.

 
O, it could be the greatest thing,
The taste of 
Cinnamon, Jasmine, Violet 
He brings home.
O yes, I could make a cake
If I could, or an ornamental bouquet 
Wrapped in his playboy
Delicate and ornate 
Vulgarities 
Printed on my fingers
From wet stems-
Yes, Prayers and cravings for
Brandy, Ginger, Candy,
To rest on my tongue 
Or on my fingers a
Diamond, Amber, Pearl
So close to my skin.
O, my everything seeks
A new face every night
A wig could fool
A man unfocussed 
Procured by
Cherry, Jade, Bliss
Only A poor substitution
For Intimacy, Ecstasy and Liberation.
O my angel,
Take me home 
Being good rewards me with nothing,
And yet so much I'd give,
A moment on my lips 
for a lifetime at your hips.
O my angel,
Take me home.

[unpublished]

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