Oh bestow that pungent, dreamy waft of your intent
across sullied sheets, stained pinkish in
crook of elbow, of stubbly cheeks,
of too much sunshine: ferocity.
These afternoon pleasures sing with peppered resolve; drift into our nascent
underbellies like prelude to the requisite laceration.
Oh to be more than a mere keepsake:
an attractive, fleeting bauble precariously
perched on shelf near bed.
Impetuous, languid lapses into rumination accomplish little but sullied pause.