miyako73
04-18-2012, 05:30 AM
Out of nowhere,
their secret universe,
he appears
to crawl and tickle.
Mistaking it
for a strawberry candy,
he likes the red
on my big toe.
The polish shines
and blinds;
on my knuckle,
he struggles.
With closed eyes,
he feels
and traces the vein
on my varicose foot.
He can see again
near the bony bump
where he dives
and slides down to my shin.
After strolling
as if on a long bridge,
he rests on my knee
and bites a little.
Before proceeding
onto my limb,
he ponders upon
my vast torso.
My pink underwear
confuses him again-
"is it a lacy cloth
or a cotton candy?"
Not smelling sugar,
he ignores the silk
and moves on
after wiping his sweat.
Thinking I am hiding
something sweet,
he goes back
to uncover.
The rubber thick
the band snugging tight,
his muscle cannot lift,
his teeth cannot bite.
"I don't eat dead fish anyway,"
he says
pinching his nose
and without sour-graping.
Out of breath
and exhausted,
he gives up
and sees a well ahead.
He bounces
like a kid on a trampoline
and playfully tumbles
around my belly.
Thinking my navel
is a dry lakebed
of caramel syrup,
he jumps in.
Disappointed,
he throws tantrums,
and on my flesh,
again he bites.
Back on his feet,
like an explorer,
he probes
my flat stomach.
He wanders
above my diaphragm
until two identical hills
appear before him.
They look familiar
to his wondering eyes
like the two before
on my bare backside.
He looks up,
surveys the cones
the slopes,
and the steep rise.
He has to reach
the pointy peak
to see in full
my face ahead.
He succeeds
like a mountaineer
conquering the height
of my breast.
He stares at my eyes,
and my eyelids,
closing and opening,
bewilder him.
"What a landscape!"
he says about my smile
and my cheeks,
rosy pink and ripe.
Determined,
he rides the air
I try hard to suck,
and lands on my chin.
He smells cherry
near my coated lips
and runs quick
to take a bite.
Because of stupidity
and greed,
he sticks himself
onto the melted red wax.
Fortunately,
he survives
from the sticky thing
tasting like grime.
Thirsty,
he is happy
to see my teeth
wet from saliva.
He finds the slight opening,
his entrance to the cave,
where wasps and bees
can hide their honey.
Out of the blue,
he pukes in my mouth,
the abyss for the chewed
and the dead swallowed.
He hops, slips, and runs
as fast as he can
from the smelly ghost,
gurgling and burping.
In my nose,
he finds a dripping hole
to rest and hide,
to quench his lips and throat.
He crawls,
he sips,
he bites,
and I sneeze.
I look around,
left and right,
up and down;
he is gone.
I look again
and find him drowned and dead
between my breasts,
in a pool of snot and phlegm.
their secret universe,
he appears
to crawl and tickle.
Mistaking it
for a strawberry candy,
he likes the red
on my big toe.
The polish shines
and blinds;
on my knuckle,
he struggles.
With closed eyes,
he feels
and traces the vein
on my varicose foot.
He can see again
near the bony bump
where he dives
and slides down to my shin.
After strolling
as if on a long bridge,
he rests on my knee
and bites a little.
Before proceeding
onto my limb,
he ponders upon
my vast torso.
My pink underwear
confuses him again-
"is it a lacy cloth
or a cotton candy?"
Not smelling sugar,
he ignores the silk
and moves on
after wiping his sweat.
Thinking I am hiding
something sweet,
he goes back
to uncover.
The rubber thick
the band snugging tight,
his muscle cannot lift,
his teeth cannot bite.
"I don't eat dead fish anyway,"
he says
pinching his nose
and without sour-graping.
Out of breath
and exhausted,
he gives up
and sees a well ahead.
He bounces
like a kid on a trampoline
and playfully tumbles
around my belly.
Thinking my navel
is a dry lakebed
of caramel syrup,
he jumps in.
Disappointed,
he throws tantrums,
and on my flesh,
again he bites.
Back on his feet,
like an explorer,
he probes
my flat stomach.
He wanders
above my diaphragm
until two identical hills
appear before him.
They look familiar
to his wondering eyes
like the two before
on my bare backside.
He looks up,
surveys the cones
the slopes,
and the steep rise.
He has to reach
the pointy peak
to see in full
my face ahead.
He succeeds
like a mountaineer
conquering the height
of my breast.
He stares at my eyes,
and my eyelids,
closing and opening,
bewilder him.
"What a landscape!"
he says about my smile
and my cheeks,
rosy pink and ripe.
Determined,
he rides the air
I try hard to suck,
and lands on my chin.
He smells cherry
near my coated lips
and runs quick
to take a bite.
Because of stupidity
and greed,
he sticks himself
onto the melted red wax.
Fortunately,
he survives
from the sticky thing
tasting like grime.
Thirsty,
he is happy
to see my teeth
wet from saliva.
He finds the slight opening,
his entrance to the cave,
where wasps and bees
can hide their honey.
Out of the blue,
he pukes in my mouth,
the abyss for the chewed
and the dead swallowed.
He hops, slips, and runs
as fast as he can
from the smelly ghost,
gurgling and burping.
In my nose,
he finds a dripping hole
to rest and hide,
to quench his lips and throat.
He crawls,
he sips,
he bites,
and I sneeze.
I look around,
left and right,
up and down;
he is gone.
I look again
and find him drowned and dead
between my breasts,
in a pool of snot and phlegm.