It’s a sidelong glance
This April sun is throwing me.
A teasing slant of mischievous rays
like lashes intersecting chin
A backward glance above a lowered shoulder.
This wicked star
is winding the chemical spring
of my pineal sundial,
Awakening some hibernating beast in me.
I feel my skull to see if I am growing
antlers.
My nostrils flare to smell the musky
world at rut.
This sun is a welcome possessor
More potent than rhino horn,
Fermenting my blood to a sour-sweet wine
I can feel myself ripening,
feel for yourself.
Touch where this sun has touched me,
Taste what it has grown for you.
A delicious sin it is
To eat of the fruit of Eden.
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