She tasted
of blood and
sunshine—
in the warm,
bright, sticky,
crimson drying
of late spring…
and when
I would nibble
on her extremities,
she would chirp
and twitter and tweet,
trying to scramble away—
or seeming to, though only
in a mock sort of trying really—
and then she might
say something such as
“Oh, oh, no, stop,
please, please, stop, oh!”
and flail about a bit,
before falling into
my embrace,
fits of laughter and
joyous mirth,
singing, dancing,
merriment all around—
and then I would go on eating her
until halfway
through the summer,
and (sometimes)
she would eat me, too.
Author notes
Written March 11th, 2006
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