‘Drink me’
the label written
in careful cursive blue.
She wears it loose hung
between her breasts.

Her hair a dappled cider
golden tendrils wanton tease
from nape to near nipple,
lengthening shadows
that reach far beyond
her diminutive stature.

Her skin pale Indian ale
of olive wood tones
speak of sun soaked days.
She stands leg cross askance,
intentions translucent spirit
one hundred percent proof.
Her smile a dry wine
melting ice cubes floated
in crisp sipped kisses.

She speaks in standard
measure doubles dropped
in frosted sugar glass.
Drink me quick or slow.
Let me quench your thirst.
Never let me sleep alone.

As morning wakes
trailing back to buttock
a second label writ
in black Indian ink.
‘Eat me’
Sate long hunger,
grow roots, rise tall,
embrace her taste,
stumble fallen to found.