The Promise

by | Dec 8, 2020 | Issue Eighteen, Poetry

Tongue my dress like goddess

whisper. Lick the milk lazy or lie in rust

still panting delirious petals—tell me

the incubator we live in has blown a fuse

or that tomorrow, my daughter will wake up

inside the canyon walls I secreted

her inside until the world’s oxygen supply

is replenished. Tell me if you like syrup

on your pancakes, do my scales

make your fingers itch? Please don’t cry

when you see her wedged in limestone,

loosen the ribbons in her hair & lift

her into your wings, fly to the farthest diner

& drink black coffee, primrose, promise?

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