The grey heron
who eats all the fish
in her pond
brings back to her

a risen cornfield
or her home
each delicately, slowly
undress the other.
As lovers unmask her scars,
elaborate tattoos
hear her:

“Kiss, or bite every word here.
I like pain. I’ve no regrets”

Lip lover’s tongue recites a Maurice Sendak “Where the Wild Things Are”
italic roman sentence that begins at her bitten bottom rose scented lip
curves under her jaw, snakes
down her neck, between her breasts,
over her stomach until it reaches
three dots before her vulva,
and inhales her summer fruit.

Sole lover whispers a gothic lettered Lewis Carroll “Alice In Wonderland”
sentence that begins under right foot’s third toe flourishes over her instep,
around her ankle, under her knee
and up the lily aroma of her thigh,
trips lightly
over small apple of her back,
and, against strict instruction
paraphrases, cuts and pastes frenziedly down her other
leg a kiss on each of her painted toes.
She has never felt so wet.