Hunting season

gently, my fingers brushed through the bridge
of your nose, and nimbly we crossed the waters

of unspeakable longing. my hand felt the summer
in your hand, and the jungle of desire tossed about

its canopy and understory and grass, decreeing once
and for all nature’s law in troubled terrain.

when my throat felt the autumn, like strawberries
your lips bloomed, sumptuous and sweet, waiting

to be picked by a sundrenched man with soiled feet, wanting,
like roses, to be adored and smelled and kept in a vase filled

with only the sweetest rainwater. my mouth craved
for the dew of the evergreens, and my tongue probed

into the hibernating depths of the earth. The winter
in my bones melted away, your soft moans assuring me:

tonight, the roots and barks and leaves
shall not taste the bitterness of snow.
Written by heyycyanides
Author's Note
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