Sita Inas Mere Nada

The morning we awoke in my garden I cursed the songbirds
that roused you from my arms In your absence I embraced the lemon tree

I'd bask in your sunflares and you in my nightshade
You left me kiss swollen and sunburnt while I left you filleted and wellfucked

Your tears began to bore me My arms creaked opened time after time after
I'm sorry I'm shit It won't happen again I'm sorry Excuse me I need to kiss you now

Built enough with flair to spare
One twitching coiled fury veering toward my burning river

Our appetites devoured us You tasted of coarse coffeegrounds and cinnamon and cedar 
and nicotine and nerve and I was citrus and moonlight and panic and herb

Burning leaves singed the corners of the night back when I hadn't yet learned your name
and you couldn't figure out how to look me in the eye

Your intensity was the violet bugzapper snapping all summer long
I was the dazzled Ghost Moth lost on a new lawn

When we got lost we gorged on sunwarmed raspberries Your stubble worried my sunburn
You licked my berryblood-covered fingers clean

In a fit you put your fist through the pane but for some reason I was the one crying
A knock at midnight The rattle of the doorknob Realizing I'd come to fear what I loved

We preened before each other Ate ideas off our naked bodies with forks and knives
All night I held on to you for dear life and dear lives

We were docile at dawn when you'd curl into me Your breath on the slope of my shoulder
Hand on my breast We'd drift until noon's heat flushed us from bedrest

Your querulous tongue The small of your back and the large of your want
Your quarrelsome tongue My hunger My thirst Your searing tongue on my branded body

You were only fully alive on knife's edge and slippery stairs and creaking rafters and cracked plaster
I'd sit at the top of the pines on the shores of cold lakes or folded discreetly between boulders


SITA INAS MERE NADA is a traveller and poet.