on my tongue

write a poem that explores your sense of taste

a tin cup at my lip,
a copper penny hidden in my cheek
cold water overflowing my mouth
and I’m thirsty
and it’s hot out

a silk scarf coming loose
warm milk in the half light
teeth and nails dragging over
unbroken skin
salty that way

an entire savannah and four legs
the blood of fresh kill
the wind whistling as you dive
dirt and fur
river from the sea

the dew on your tongue
when he’s just behind you
the bliss on your brow when
she steps so near
you only inhale

the moment you cross
the white man’s border
the moment you stand
on your own land
you taste it

softer on the bones

no one told me
the skin of my lovers
would be softer with time
age loosening flesh from bone
and I would seek this
instead of firm fruit
the movement in my hands
of memories and pleasures
the hours after midnight
before dawn
when everything is whispered
even our screams

that i would cultivate a
fetish for scars
for the precise laughter
i
call forth

and i would be so excited
for every lover who came before me
shaping this moment
when you know your demands

and thank the whole mystery
for everyone who accepted my carnal invitation
articulating my concessions
and my deep lines
in the ancient sand
not that, this this yes god this

no one told me
how would become more important
even than first impressions
and I wouldn’t want any of the things
i was told made a life

and i would love the new, even now
the new level, the new exposure
the new word and voice
the new rhythm

the new me that emerges
each time i realize
oh – i am aging

and everything
everything
is more delicious
with time