21 Poem by Anakie Fleetwood

My mother says that I must eat
that silky spaghetti gilding my throat
will cure my interminable mind
in the end all I wanted
was to consume
and pin you like a butterfly to the wall of my bed
so I could peruse your phosphorescent colours
and examine every crease in your shoulder blades
the white trailing of your acromion
and the smooth serenity of your scapula
you were visceral
primal
sacred
gone
mayflies live for 24 hrs
your heart trembled for 5 minutes
before I lost its metronomic beat
I could devour you
and leave nothing but vertebrae
but you disappeared
before I could even get a taste
of your primavera lips.