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.