Fresh

Sometimes I cannot believe
how hungry I am for you

I see you coming up the walk
instantly I become wet
as school girl dew

I bend into you at dinner
The scent of you overpowers
the melon

I am anxious to devour you
paying no attention
to the juices
running across my fingers
down my arm
between my legs

But you sense this
as strongly as a lion would
and fresh kill me
across the table
with supple fangs

Oh, the rhythm of the huntress
being preyed upon in liquid stealth

being pulled apart
and tasted as an orange

I bite my lip and squeal
rare words
you feed my lips
bergamot