This is strange, as I responded to a 'Lurve and Lust' challenge a few days ago on another board, and the poem will do for this thread, I think. Should I mention that it has gone down well on a couple of poetry-boards? Perhaps not.....
Afters
Unpeel me slowly, like the fruit
you placed on a white plate
ready to accompany the wine,
or the cake, frilly-papered,
that you eyed while you ate
your salad and brown bread.
The apricot warms, ripening,
the cake crumbles in its case,
sugar crystallising and re-melting.
Taste me slowly. Let me melt
into the granules of your tongue
like icecream on shingle.
Make me zing like lemonade
after strawberries, like sherbet
on a rod of liquorice. Make me
flesh and sponge, sweet
and sour, savoured, swallowed,
assimilated. Make me muscle.
(Maz)
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