She wanted to know if I could taste a three or see the color of birdsong. And I said, “Have you looked inside my brain?” I hear the heat and dark of coffee calling on my tongue—threes taste of Crossroads at midnight, and birdsongs are rainbowed. All right, I didn’t say any of that. But I sure was thinking it, and that has to count, right? What I did do (say that thirteen times fast) was craft a poem with my answer in it:
His grin tastes of wicked books
flirting in a library
made of whiskey and dance.
“May I feel your thoughts?” I say.
His eyes touch my hips with a Yes,
oh yes! that is all passion-
flower and maca root to my ears.
Are you mine? I feel him sing.
I let him taste the answer
in the arching of my back,
in my pulling of his hair—
I am woman, my skin screams,
I am all mine. But I share
when I want…
…and right now, I want
red-scented… tasting of Jazz—
the wee notes…
– I first wrote this poem as a haibun, but it didn’t feel right. I trimmed the prose and created line breaks, but left the haiku untouched—that bit felt just fine. And in case you didn’t notice, I should point out that this was a freaking blast to write.
– Maca root and passionflower have been said to enhance female libido *cough*.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Synesthesia, and to Prompt Nights ~ “Women are the real architects of Society”.