Sometimes dinner becomes a love poem

Pineapple

There is a ripeness on the brink of rot
Beneath the rugged skin a hint of gray
softness that tells us in another day
flesh will be bitter. I would rather not

be ashes on a younger lover’s tongue
and in her mouth decay to bitterness.
Some love affairs so obviously a mess
even to have that first screw would be wrong

far better savour what will never be
the scent, and elegant geometries
of skin, than see sharp anger in your eyes
that I’ve betrayed you, worse, that you’ve tricked me

and hate me because guilty. Rather flirt
and kiss, than fuck our friendship into dirt.

Advertisements

About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s