Poe at the Taqueria
I wanted to be a pendulum,
Grazing your cheek and neck,
Like the raven earrings
Rocking along your jaw line,
Until I spied your guilty hands,
Stained after their recent crime.
Two cheerful butchers, smeared
Green with the flesh of an avocado.
You finished the defiled fruit and
Lingered on its seed.
It slid between your lips,
And how I wanted to be that pit.