Last words & epigraphs
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Jill BeauchesneCome love, let me know you. I will tear you
into parts, each piece in my mouth
its own tasty motion. Each bite, causes anew.
I will make your soul a massy whole.
There you are, in skin. In well-laid walls
of blood and tendon. The membrane slides
towards my throat. Calm, love, I do not swallow.
Lie still. We are making love and building blocks.
I will eat your parts, and I will love you more?
your sweet arm, the lineated ear. I could have
it all again. But you must quell your face, dear.
It is too salty, this cheek under its quantum tear.