Cannibal

I will lie on top 
until you are toasty,

nibble locks of hair
between ripe breasts and fetlock,

smuggle you, melted,
to the other side of the house
to pound and crunch,
pelt the rest of you.

Wipe juice from my cheek
with the back of my hand;
touch a finger to my tongue
to press up all the crumbs.

Sleep sound like a beast,
your flesh, so full, in me.

tk/April 2012

R.A.D. Stainforth's delicious reading:

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