Charlotte Lockard-Thompson

art by 7ARS

This Fever and Heat

Toward the end of my tongue
is a gold bead.
My fingertips touch the hot parts of you.

Erase time now; let the moon have it
fold inside of me
carve this flesh for food
dine out together.

Sun go away.

My thighs should know your eyes.
My hair should hold your sweat.
Know this.

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