mother of pearl

  And so scarlet,

  you are beautiful as black man’s teeth, colors of trumpet, shoe polish, and marble pool.

  Shh, says the town’s needlework, starting a red thread trail down my chest.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  I’m a short drink of water,

  a gulp, the opposite of runner’s thirst. I slip into your coffee.

  I want to be the lime cooling your salad,

  I want to be the spoon and the fork. Oh preacher,

  just thinking about you splits my lip down the middle.

  What if, says your high-collared shirt, clinging to the back of your spine.

  You are beautiful as chocolate kiss foil, colors of altar, stained glass, and lifted eyes