Ice Cream (Gilded Diadem)

10 Jan


Ice Cream (Gilded Diadem)


I liked feeding her

without succumbing to paternalism:

all the writing they read

(they aren’t aware)

usually only took one hungover half-hour

while the argument between mint-chocolate chip and rum raisin is a much more delicate

–      and time consuming    –  

digging in of aesthetic discourse

but she tasted like two continents

and she always got her way.

Sweet and succulent

she licked the bottom of the spoon

then let her terpsichorean tongue devour it

the cold confection like Buddha to the Taliban

and she smiled like a small savage filled, the successful sacrifice sufficed.

A little devil with little tricks.

She let me kiss her shoulder,

but not her lips

so I gave her another spoonful

and only then

she acquiesced my appetence

like death in slumber delighted by the smell of fragrant virgin’s bower, like the almond of her hair, a weary poetic repetition from her gestures to tempt me  

because she knew  

that I loved

how she made me grateful, guiltily poisoned.

Intoxicated, I did not want to reemerge from her intoxication

and as always

I realized

that I was created to want her

and wander until I found her

like a breath

like a glass of gin

like the West Coast

like the eventual choice of mint-chocolate chip.


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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