Denim on denim
We dance our blues away.
Your ring doesn’t quite fit my finger
But we book the hotel anyway.
Your hair a mess from my nestling
Lace dripping down from the walls;
Tangerine skin on your eyelids
With cigarette breath in your pores.
Sweet potato skin-graft,
Busy hands, sinking raft;
Cherry seeds in passionfruit skin,
A dogtoothed lust in a charlatan grin.
Flint and tinder, smoke and cinder:
The love that burns between your fingers.
You rest your hand, tap once, tap twice;
My ashen moans amidst your vice.