Darling, you’ve spent all your hums.
You’ve over-flossed and now they’re auctioning off your mincemeat
and drying themselves with your childhood blanket.
I’ve conditioned my ears with bell-buds,
warmed them in your eunuch light,
let the double helix eraser rollerblade down our sidewalk--
What did you actually say?
Our translator is gone; he choked on honeycomb.
His smoke-hair will forever plaster our wall
(even though I sponged out his face)--
I want you
to flood yourself on a wholegrain keyboard.
Banish the complex sugars.