We were wanting out loud. Butterflies
pinned to a board – twitching deep in the dark.
I would have crumbled into your hands,
had you but said yes,
had you but bared your teeth.
We were wanting out loud. Hands,
daffodils and daisy – everything soft,
crushed between sweaty adolescent palms.
Etching the face of Eros into tree bark,
our grimaces made of claws.
We were wanting out loud. Beneath
a new moon, your howl caressing my throat
and I riding like Lady Godiva, with the sweet taste
of doom upon my lips – like molasses –
like my name crucified in your mouth.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2021
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