Delightful dish

A mouth is a
mouth
if it’s ready
to be eaten,
like some unearthly dish
made by a combination
of flesh and soul.

A mouth,
mouth.
Mouth of mine.
Fine line
of desire
and despair.

Tender fountain
waiting to be
drunk.
And then refilled
with the most
unlikely wine.

A mouth
to breath
your life in.
And out again.
Every second
it is close by.

A mouth.
Mouth mouth mouth mouth.
Dripping wet.
Swallowing me
whole. Leaving me
dead.

Finished on 05-13-2002