Red
why do I crave you
was Oedipus trapped
is my penis at fault
or is it just a boy’s love for his mother
that projects her qualities
along side his lustful appetite
Red
you seem softer and
sweeter for the plucking
like ripened fruit
about to fall to the ground
but with a fiery spirituous
all your own
Red
you feed on my soul
you don’t brown like
hot buns
but little sparks
like spitfire
prick your fair supple skin
flames burst from your head
in a fountain
showering me with little
Red
arrows

• RED