Dessert Came

Dessert.
Whose idea was it
To introduce a savoury sweet
When a man should be surfeit
After a hearty meal.

To tempt the tongue
To want to slowly lick
And flick
And taste
And plunder

I don't know whose idea it was
To turn man's world asunder.

But I thank them.

Dessert came
about 4.18pm
Thankfully a few hours after lunch
And well before dinner.

Dark chocolate pudding
Firm enough outside to hold together the melting, strawberry flavoured inner.

Dessert came
wrapped in frilly russet orange with a green ribbon accent.
A petite package with a divine smell
Tempting me to grab and lift it to my face like a wild savage
til it covered me
and I licked and sucked and pushed my tongue as deep as it would go
as my nose rubbed back and forth across its crowning
Glory
repeatedly.

Dessert came
With a kick
Make that a series of unexpected kicks and quivers that blew my mind
And dirtied my face
Ran down my throat
And dissolved on my chest in a puddle.

I thought I heard sounds
Like a keening from afar.
There was a sensation of my scalp stinging
And/or pummelling on my upper back.
I'm not so sure.
I was lost in the taste and the texture
And the toe curling pleasure
Of dessert.

Dessert made a mess of me.
In every way.
A tear may have left my eye
For sure I groaned.

Having devoured my tasty treat
My loins gave out.
I was replete.