i dealism
I don’t believe in marriage,
but I’d marry you.
Marry you proud.
Marry you sweet.
Cover feet in grape pulp,
wrap tangles of hair in honey
and lie,
sticky but satisfied
on sheets,
palms touching,
open eyes searching ceiling swirls
for future conquests.
I want to be the teaspoon
to your tablespoon.
Want to scratch nails down soft legs,
smile into pillows,
scream
(joyfully)
like a female alleycat in heat,
tread fiery pavement up the street, your
knees
crunching in perfect tune
to my ankle cracking.
I want to match my nailpolish to your eyes,
in your absence
I’ll know that stare like the back of my hand.
I want to be the woman
who dedicates whole novels to her lover,
as a way of bragging to the rest of the world,
I want to be the thunder crying out
“this is she,
this is the perfect she.”
-J.Morrill
