LULLABYE

sweet thing,

you hang like

a chain

around my neck

like a beesting

in August

in your hollow pain

I sweat

hollowed

we wed

I’ve gone cross-eyed

and tongue-tied

at the prospect

of your lips.

like a plaid-skirt-fitted virgin

with the devil on my hips

I’d melt like a mint

in the heat of your mouth.

like a hurricane in a dress shirt

headed angry

down south

I would give anything

to be slipping

down your throat.