Honeydew

Every day I wake up early

with the sun & remember

eating honeydew in bed:

your rind littered the sheets

*

after you loved me mean.

I held your dimpled skin between

my knees, said nothing, pushed

you beneath the silk duvet.

*

I did love, but does that matter?

Judgement is about forgiveness.

Once I said your poems

are good, but not so good

*

but I was lying. I worshipped them

like gods, small but powerful

and burning while I watched

them undress—Now imagine

*

when you scooped the fruit clean

with your teeth, marble skin

the shape of man: How could

we have betrayed the poems?

*

We hadn’t made them at all.

They used us, hunks of flesh. Now

I’m so disgusted with ourselves.

The work of the body body.

*

The work of the words. Don’t

you see we’re sickly sweet,

chilled, and wet? Let's

stop pretending and dig in.

*

Now, bury your face like a good

body. Open your mouth, good good

body body. Look up with strings

of melon in your grin.