thE hUMIDEX7*

The Broadsheet of Your Back

on the broadsheet of your back
I write a lovenote
with the quill of my lips

on the whetstone of your thighs
I scrawl a lustnote
with the cod of my tongue

Marzipan

skin, treacle honeyed like marzipan
honed smooth, and the crazing
beyond words, simple, yet so
wordless, an avarice that schemes

and hungers, for a mouthful of
skin, scalloped, yet honeyed, like
marzipan; texture’s like phrases, yet
wordless, articulating the crazing, so

far removed, yet nearing, closing in
on the nectar of skin, so nurturing, yet
always hard and scheming, like marzipan
splitting your lips, blood honeyed, crazed

yet unable to sing