Lana May

Molten Ground

The telephone rings
at the top of the stairs.
Speak forever
before my heart’s
on center stage.

I should leave,
before I let it all out
But you put down
the phone
and your eyes
root my feet
in molten ground.

Better leave now
your eyes
block my way

Better leave
Before I forget

And as I reach
for the door,
I am silenced.
Winded by the vigor
of your swift
Warm saliva

your kiss
floods my forgetful mind,
searches and finds,
takes me
away down a
desperate river
in which I will

(100 words)

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