Beyond a Horizon Stained with Adultery

 
I sunbathe my toes
on the verandah of your conscience,
chewing coffee beans
and scribbling lazy sonnets
about the bite marks I’ve left
on the inner side of your right thigh.
I fold them in four,
address to Neverland,
seal with a kiss of Sumatra
and tuck them neatly
under your lashes
for her to dream of
when she falls asleep next to you.

I peel tangerines
and watch her head spin
with the ancient Samodiva spells
I’ve sung in your curls
while the sunrise crawled
between the branches,
up the laundry line
three time zones away.

A sheet of my Petrarchan diary
still in her clenched fist,
she burns her tongue on the taste of my name
on your lips
and shivers with memories
of all frigid Christmases
on the Balkans
I’ve told you fairy tales of.

My toes pleasantly warm,
I henna-tattoo hearts
on the walls
of your coffee-republic tomorrows
while she chokes
on the sweetness
of sleepy good morning kisses
you’ve tickled my breasts with.

Beyond a horizon stained with adultery
the sun drips guilt
as I collect my iambic recipes
for love eternal
and throw
spices and dry leaves
over her pillow
so that in jealous insomnia
she suffocates
thinking of me.