Speak to me of love, she said,

and think on the sun’s subtle shade,

and please remember this is Valentine’s Day.

 

Speak to me of love, he said,

and wish upon this night time’s gentle gasp,

and on languid limbs lipped to dreaming better memory.

 

Her tongue bruised all the fruit from his words

as they ripened to tumble dew-drenched from

crystal eyes, as his hands tore at blossomed clumps

now crushed to weep beneath his palms. Teeth on skin

and pressed in sweat to test her neck’s brittle thinness,