The sliced open world
like halved citrus,
gleaming on your marbled countertop.
Polly call me a fool,
between steaming sips of spiced tea.
Pluck mint from the terracotta pot
on the windowsill,
and remind me of all the words
I still do not know.
Peel back my every poem.
Twist the tops off the strawberries.
Reveal my mediocracy.
Call me a fraud.
Cut off my hands.
My insatiable love,
drizzle honey,
whisper hymns,
and swallow the whole simple world.
Every clean line,
every large green panel,
all I’ve ever wanted,
fits so neatly inside of your mouth,
take my everything,
ravenous love,
and when it’s over,
I will thank you
for this lush anguish
that fills me again