the hunter, gathered
by Wm. Rike on February 11, 2007
As you take me in hand, the melon fire
of your touch sublimes my mind to black sugar.
Your bespittled palm slides up the underside,
swelling me like fruit after fallen rain.
I am ready to fall, bursting to be
gathered in by you - sweetening your hunger,
becoming your belly, enriching your skin -
diffused throughout your blood
until you, yourself, are fallen fruit
nourishing the body of the earth.
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