sour fruit

I devoured you in my dream last night.

You were tough, and warm, and raw,
and soft.

I breathed you in and

and sucked your soul

out through your delicate

fingertips.

Then spit you out

like a cherry pit:

chewed up flesh,

hollow center

of a ripe and juicy

fruit.

Like bubble gum

on a sunsmacked sidewalk.

Like sidewalk chalk

after the rain.

When I woke

nectar was running

down my chin,

warm

and pink and

stickysweet.

I tasted your silence

on the roof of my mouth

and licked my lips

with an alkaline tongue.

**

I am pondering extending this poem to a three-parter...

I have been reading Sandra Cisneros'  Loose Woman.  Clearly it's bleeding through to my work... which I can't say I'm upset about.