she smiles and plucks him like a harp
peels him like an orange with her white teeth
a hyacinth poetic pulse sliding her throat
perfume rhymes in her veins
an aromatic haiku in her wink
needle diamonds
sharp tipped silver sliver
between her fingertips
she has chosen a deep canary yellow
to sew his skin back on
a dreaming poet tattooed with glistening silk
on the inside of his wrist
filled with straw
she pulls his sinew like five point thorns with little fingertips
plays them like the strings of a violin
a lunar orbit fallen to a teal wall displaying a velvet painting of Jesus
or maybe it was Elvis in the cloudy margarita
above barstools
reserved for dead poets
swimming animate poet skins
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