waiting to be discharged

suck on bite sized kisses with stone cores and fraying stems,
purse lips, let your tongue caress the smooth, slippery heat
then toss up the swirling disks like pizza dough, glowing buttons on the canvas sky.
catch an old airplane, fly upwards in the metal angel of death
to catch each jewel.
your tied hands are growing rusty, vibrating with lightning and held together with paper clips
and your claws are sinking deeper and deeper into the soaking asphalt
as your body glows harder and sweeter and softer, turning into ice cream and stained marble planets.
if you are going to turn your face, oh, dear god, let it be now.

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