Go ahead, say it.

You feel like
walking on water again.

You're not Christ, you know,
red up to your ears

because you got
the fish count wrong

until someone lied
to make miracle out of error.

Not even close to Dali
who melted watches

with his breath and spoke
his own tongue.

I wondered if he lapped
his wife's wetness with that.

The pink sky in your mouth
is good enough for me.

Before I let you taste
the lick of my appetite,

swear to change
your wife to stone.

Go ahead, say it.
2003 Arlene Ang

More Poetry

sun salutation

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