meg tuite

 

 

Succulent

Making love to her soulís self
she turns the bacon
so it wonít burn

Charred bodies
smoke
in the after-math
of mornings
without sex

she sculpts her lack
into an omelette
filled with all
the plumpness of flesh

english muffins
slathered in melted cheese
and sunflower seeds
that trace the tongues of lovers

mounting each other
on the plate
one gluttonous orgy
of tastebuds

that will mingle
and migrate
into places she
has rarely been

 

back to issue 21

take me home