Roux

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Two sparking fireflies
braiding their way moonward;
fireworks of milk. Girl sinew,
jigsaw cohesion, cartilage
on cartilage, base grinding.

Salt rocks, litmus colourings
of metal fire, the juicy-juicy.
Pulp jiggle, digestive fibres;
kindergarten alkali.

To land wholly in a giant’s palm;
reverberating currents of satisfaction.
The gum-smacking masticating glibness
of it – idiot euphoria – delirious
abasement, toffee buckets
of intravenous sugar,
cracking the eggshell
of imaginary to real.

This is the endless lesson,
thighs astride a brass seahorse;
saxophonic Vaseline.

Just as consciousness returns
to the fainter, your mild-mannered
nature bubbles back into view –
bullets for safekeeping.
To look into the prophet’s face:
That’s really lovely /
    You’re so cuddly
Laying you down gently
to sleep – coming as far as I can.
I’ll meet you back here at the shadow lip,
the void in which I dangle my feet,
scanning the nightscape for crows.

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