Vice

Vice

I imbibe you.
Your sherry
bright and sharp
on my tongue,
warm as it trickles
through my veins.
Against the night
I glow,
melody curls
from my lips
like smoke
sweet like maple brown
my words drop
into your hungry mouth.

I am dyed
for you—
greased, powdered and perfumed—
red and black
on china white
like war paint,
the lines drawn
so carefully
outlining my intentions.
We are mutual pawns
and I grin
deliciously
as you fold yourself
into the palm
of my hand,
your eyes shining
with victory.

Licking my fingers,
I taste our addictions
as we peel
back the cloth
so ready
to lose ourselves
in the skin
of the other.


--jenna r. mckean 0ctober, 2001