Come to me, cold and delicious
What fruit from a tree
Could be more nutritious?
Let me put my lips on your
Sweet-peach-cheek
Taste tart juices, sucked
At their peak
Dribble down my chin in a
Purplish streak
Soft and downy-lush I crush
Your strawberry mouth to mine
So I can dine
On your raspberry tongue
(A seasonal delicacy)
Serve yourself to me
Like Saint Benedict's golden plate
A miracle,
Something to sate me, bait me
Wait for me
In your orchard, hanging
(hungry beggar girl)
Thick with blue fruit
To suit any need or desire
Drinking you in, your icy purity
Shocks me, mocks me
Goes straight to my brain
A sharp plum-spike of pain
Slip down my throat, cold and delicious
Your berry-black sweetness
Could not be
More nutritious.
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