The Absence of Wavelength

Virginity Is A Whole-some Muffin

Hot Mess
I cannot abide if my beauty lost

Release, my sweet, moist muffin!
I prompt, as I pry
but do not know why
innocence will not taste the same,
if your blueberry-stuffed sin won’t maintain.
A thick, birthing batter,
you arrived from her oven,
risen, baked to perfection.

You will be my confection!

And, the longer I pry,
should you crumble, I’ll cry —
because I want to be the one
to pull you apart —
inside out — and reveal
a hot mess hiding
in your golden flesh.


6.8.25
18, 20, 21, 23 lines of vers libre
Snarf!

In one bite, Brian?

mmph, mmph!

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