sashay

i am wrestling with a spring fashioned from what
appears to be a tight coil of mane, but which has
been made, surprisingly, out of nothing, air, space
the imp had been quite clear: stick
your finger in my garden,
then put it in your mouth

i did as i was told,
sliding the digit all the way,
passed my knuckle,
the liquid dripping on to my tongue,
this is the only thing i've ever eaten
that involves sticking a finger down my throat

beatific smiles cross her face as the juice melts in
my mouth, not in my hand, we are here to do nothing
else than indulge ourselves

romans can still generate excitement, emotion, ecstasy, but they
can do it in a way that's quite unique, because
you're putting sustenance into your perfect body

the imp sashays over with a small
purple meringue, two bites, i'm instructed,
there's some sort of yokie substance on the
top, yet the meringue itself is - surprise!

to devour her is to engage in an experience that is
intensely carnal and primal, animal