imprints

an unsatiated breath mingles
with words entombed
in my throat
swallowed alongside
sweet wine
and pomegranate
their notes seep south, writhing
curled in the fermenting space in between
heart and haunts
a language untranslated
but, lover
if you pressed your ear
underneath my collarbone
and absorbed the erratic pulse
that which lives under
a ribbed marrow cage
you’d hear of lace
a glass peach
smudged ink fingerprints
an affinity for
saltwater

and olives
the color purple
you’d ask which kind
i’d trace my finger over your eyelashes
contently
and respond “amethyst”
your shoulders would soften and
you’d hear your name
each syllable whispered
in the same reverent tone
as my hearts curious beat
you’d understand
here
i hold every love i’ve ever known
beneath my skin
but i suppose
you’d rub the night fog from your eyes
and where you resided
would become no more than
a vacant grave
where i lay fresh flowers
among decayed
and speak of you

(reverently)
in past tense
— for pomegranate always tasted sour in your mouth