to patroclus

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.