Milk My Eyes
by Garth Pavell
Milk my eyes with the quill of your pen
She mysteriously wrote in the ancient language of lipstick
I lifted classically trained butter onto my blunt knife
And spread the maze across the little disasters in the bread
Tailored sanctuaries sweetly whipping the blackened crust
Into a freshly baked autobiographical story
Let me taste it, she said, opening her lips to receive
The remnants of the fire that burned my house as a kid
Reminds me of the spoonfuls of sugar my mother used to cook
She licked a charred flake from her tooth and magically fertilized
The physiological stampede rampaging under my napkin
What’s gotten into you, she said, intangibly feeling my forehead
We taste different things in the same bread, I said.
Her tongue moved like a sanguine poem plods
Igniting my fire into her primordial spell of candy
