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,
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.