Bread and Blood


The day I hauled your couch upstairs,

My knuckle grazed the wall,

Redundant blood on the coarse brick.

Later, noticing the wound,

I showed my fist and said,

"Look. Injured in your service."

You took my hand at once and

Licked away the blood,

Your tongue spread on my hand's back

Like a child's on a bruised peach.

I wanted you forever.

You kissed my chest that night, and

The skin opened like ripe fruit bursting;

You nursed heart's blood, and we were,

In the moment of our love, immortal.

Poetry Writing Dancing Badger