for want of eyes, of skin, of teeth,
to sink my teeth into the flesh
of the peach, the apple
and its sweetness,
to rival the sour i seek
when picking honey-sweet
pomegranates from your leaves.
slipping tongue between teeth
and seed beneath tongue,
i searched for you in hades’ garden.
wondering where your sweet soul
wanders – past the river lethe?
how do i reach you if
thetis forgot to dip me.