rendezvous

Megan Lee Gong

by my side: love’s petals swollen with strawberry juices. an intoxicating pop; i pick thin paper between
my fingers and press them to your thorns. my chipped nails trace grooved wood. steam rises in whispers
of your voice; i cover my ears, preventing the end of pink summers. bloated taste buds give rise to
cranberries which you reach inside to harvest; your fingertips trace gold beneath veins. it grows, sprouts,
unfurls. in four beats: i. the sun in my hands ii. bubbling liquor sampled by waiting pores iii. lungs full of
cinnamon spice and iv. flora lining nasal passage. send me a kiss—seal delirium in a bottle and expedite
folly through sewer grates. turn me, a music box, until notes no longer sound of blue skies, until the
strumming of acoustic guitar no longer brings back cloying memories.