“But how?” you hiss. How? Your split-flower swells
purple with my tongue in it. How you curve,
grip the sheets, come undone. How hunger spells
leave me famished. I could lap at each nerve
in your clit, leave you both fazed and flayed, slow
ravage –– no? Yes. I’d still devour your heart.
Still lick you away until your ego
dissolves, your mind goes blank and the gods start
buzzing in you. The point of this poem
isn’t that I can, but that I will. Juice
and sauce and sprinkle. “I’m a slutty brat,”
you hiss. Yes, we know. The only venom
in my tongue is what I say to seduce
you. My cum chum, pussy willow, cunt cat.