darling, there are sand fleas
crawling up my skirt. sharp pricks
like pins in a ladybug.

careful!

they crawl into our open
mouths when we smile
to live in the shadows
where kisses begin.
they eat metaphors
for sheep to count
stars and toes.
and when we kiss
they become lions
who breathe sweet fire
into tongues.

I knew she was a princess
because her mouth tasted
like absinthe and wine.

I knew she was a princess
because her lips became sparklers
falling on white thighs
when I held my breath

And I knew we were alive
when our lips turned black
and stuck together
like licorice whips
in the sun.

Fish and Shushan