Your lover is like:
- crocus amidst snow on the boulevard
- a cat spider on the other side of a white curtain
- reading glasses, taped
- the sound of a hammer swinging from a tool belt, its hickory handle loose
Kissing her is like:
- koi breaking the pond’s meniscus
- pilfering raspberries
- patching a bicycle tire
- cutting through a parsnip
Do her fingers feel like:
- wet grass at the ankles, finally
- dry rye tops brushing against your arms in the dark
- an annual, say, vanilla-scented purple heliotrope
- north wind in the ears
Does she taste like:
- carrots licked with soil
- a new word
- twelve-hour Gravol
- sealing an envelope, black as engine oil
Leaving is:
- camellia blooms on the lawn, petals fringed with decay
- a flat road framed by thirsty fields