Kindra M. Austin – Taste and more
His tongue tastes like saliva
and cherry
Skoal.
When he wants to fuck,
he asks if I’m in the mood;
is that respect or
indolence?
Why should I
care?
His irises are
two oceans alight
with bursts of butter yellow
sun;
a pair of pupils are black
holes I navigate.
I love him,
and I don’t mind that
he seeks permission
to fuck me.
I love him
and the tang
of ultra-fine tobacco.
I love him
and the ordinary scent
of his skin.
I love him
and his cannon mouth,
made for resounding laughter.
I love that he said if I
die first, he’ll carry
my ashes in his pocket—
his front one so I’m
closer to his you know what.
His tongue tastes like saliva
and cherry
Skoal.
© 2019 Kindra M. Austin
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