You. Pale green orb, cream-licked,
sprout pubic down of youth,
moonballs flipped from Mars’ sky.
Will you, your bushy branches part
seeing how I pant
hold back your spelky thorns?
Or will stiletto thrusts penetrate
my flesh, draw scarlet wine
from secret folds?
I had a bobble-popper necklace, as a girl,
It shared your hue and glittered
As I sucked each hard blob
whilst writing homework.
I tried not to bite, and yet my teeth
still left sharp-needled scars.
If I taste your juice fresh squeezed
I’ll fall to hell in tart-sweet sin.
Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne and writes short (and not so short) stories and poetry. She has been published on curated internet sites and in print anthologies. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Newcastle University. She believes everyone’s voice counts.