May Intoxication

Wisteria-like, you wind your fingers,

strong as a newborn,

across my chest. I wanted you

from the morning I watched your irises

slide beneath their Atlantic blue

to a gray-dappled horse

in my recurring dream.

Your tongue flicks smartly

as the garter snakes, sunning deftly

along my basement bricks.

So, my lashes drowse heavy

with the cottony lust of a first girl-

archaic; smeared in charcoal;

blazoned brighter beneath cinders

-than the nearest sun.Eastern Garter Snake

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Muscadine

Late summer vines

gnarl heavy

above my head;

my fingertips,

stained fuchsia, itch

for musky,

thick-skinned grapes.

I pop bronze-pelted

scuppernongs

between my teeth

as you slide

calloused hands

around my hips

and whisper

in a language

multiplicitous

as their names–

Black Beauty,

     Vitis rotundifolia, Alachua

Sugargate, Muscadinia,

Triumph.

 

Below your botanist slang,

I know the muscadine–

how tough ebony splits,

exposing silky underbelly.

Slick juicy pulp

pirouettes translucent,

wine-wild

like your taste,

deep as porphyry

in my mouth.