To Z: These Polkadots & Artichoke Flowers (A Preamble)

Devotional 2.0

Onyx & oiled with sex, he stayed pressed into my saliva,

rubbed the fingers to their nubs, tasted the sun just to break flavor into his mouth. 

      O'

 I dangled in front of him, a wreckage of body parts.

 And he: "there are no fruit flies in your garter--no, touch there"

             As I wore pretty dressed up as a man-eater. 

Oui, Je T'aime, Montreal!

Madio

Xom