Spice of Creation
I'm told it's best to eat low on the food chain
so if it's okay,
I'll start at your feet
and work my way up tenderly
like a child climbing a great tree
for the first time,
aspiring to your kind mouth.
But forgive me, love, I’ve lost my manners and
I fear I'm stuck between your thighs.
Can we open this oyster up?
It’s coral silk with ocean aftertaste
against my tongue.
Why wasn’t I taught to read like this?
I can taste the entire alphabet in you.
Numbers come with colors now and suddenly make sense.
I feel the alchemy of poetry and art,
high mathematics and astrophysics.
I can smell the spice of creation.
I could love you clean from the inside out.
My fingertips reach across the soft dips
and curves of your valley.
I watch warm waves
cascade up your arched back
and my jaw aches.
Loose limbs and mussed up sheets.
Next you ask,
would I like to know the constellations of heaven?
The girl of my dreams
comes from an isle
fused in a bag
of loose leaf tea
Her ginger curls
turn the boiling water spicy-sweet
Her hibiscus lips
leave ruby red stains
I'll steep her in my teacup
for far too long, until the taste is too strong And I'll drink every last drop
without sugar or cream
Daniela is a pansexual cis woman from Chicago. She thrives in environments that allow her to educate herself and others. Her affinity for language learning has made it so she is fluent in Spanish, English and French. In her free time, she likes to daydream and lose herself in poetry.