Fever Dream Metaphor- Hour Three
Sweet as starlight,
perched on a summer rind moon,
cool golden honey sugar sweetness
burning bright chill heat on soft cheeks
snapping cinnamon mint smile,
bright, precocious, brittle
plump woman sitting on a Highland dream
deep bittersweet waters warm and cloyed
and a toothsome scowl she gives.
Based, as some would say,
Sugar-sweet and chocolate-bitter breaking hearts
with her back and forth logic contained
in a leaping-hare mind,
the throaty-laughing woman who dances at sunfall
poises, pauses, takes in her breath deep.
Opening lips wide to swallow the moon
as a Honeybee watches and wonders.
Such passion can’t be contained, but she will,
and she will starburst, suddenly, fiercely,
with a clarity that could outrival diamond yellow,
J’ai plurie, I want to say, but in feverish outlandish dreams
the mug hums of golden glitter tea and her smile
an echoing lipstick print, sunshine-gold
and summer-cinnamon dark.