REFRIGERATOR BLUE

2 eyes the cold comfortable blue of a refrigerator light glowing in the temptation of a midnight snack. How I rub your head with my ngertips and press my open palm against your skull like I could push right through the bone and grab a gushy handful of your brain and take a chunk of it home with me to devour later. In my underwear, off a plate, in that refrigerator light, like cold Chinese. Grip my face and scold me for taking more than you wanted to give, and I can feel my smile rising push my cheeks through your ngers like a handful of clay, malleable in your grasp. I’ll miss your lap and the heat between my legs and showering o my sticky thighs in the quiet when I get home. Oh will I miss the stern, saccharine voice melting from your lips hovering over my open hungry mouth.