The Private Taste of
Ten November Seconds
Ossifications
of branches, grass.
You and I, frost-kissed
at the bus stop,
the air’s taste a cold
echo in the throat.
of branches, grass.
You and I, frost-kissed
at the bus stop,
the air’s taste a cold
echo in the throat.
*
The summer berries
left shelling their ghosts
on the fridge shelf,
icy delicacies
left shelling their ghosts
on the fridge shelf,
icy delicacies
tamped in plastic-
bagged trove. How
I’d like to eat
you out
bagged trove. How
I’d like to eat
you out
of house and home,
toothsome gush
mouths slathered red.
Cool fruits.
Saccharine.
toothsome gush
mouths slathered red.
Cool fruits.
Saccharine.
*
You and I are crisplips and tongues of bark,
boarding the next
moment, thawing our fingers
in one-another’s palms.
Camille Ralphs
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