Fruit and Glass

My body is a vase

and your grasping hands, two kilns,

melting me to a fluid Favrile sea.

Now I am liquid glass, free

and oozing with a shape

that cannot hold as I shimmer iridescent

in sheens of orange, red and gold

whilst fig-sweet breaths twist in kisses,

and my lips hunger for your spirit

as if it were sucrose syrup to drink.

Glowing now and devoid of form,

I sink into sheets and pour

into your fire-hot clutches

with limbs like waves

of molten glass spilling

in the thrill of pleasure’s heat

until all ends and those crafting hands

cool to shape me to completeness.

Hardened now and made anew,

I am a vast pane of stained glass,

encircled in the curvature

of an unseeable peel of lime,

its vapour Divine, its roundness secure as steel

and light as air

for there in that moment's rush

the clouds blushed cherry-pink,

and hints of nectarine gold

as we folded into a oneness

of feeling held still by steel.

All is glass and fruit with you,

beautifully fragile,

and always nourishing

so, I break glass in my hands

to understand body

and devour fruit to understand soul

and here, now, I fuse the two to understand

the wholeness of me, myself, and you.