if you had looked

behind my lips, down
my throat like an express - you would have seen pink flowering
beneath folds of conversation, you would have seen a bud
o   p   e   n   i   n   g

(you drink me up
as if I were cheap
boxed wine

swallow me whole &
I sit
warmly
territorially
giddily in your
stomach)

if you had looked,
in the root of the root of
the deep deep down
of me

you would have seen
that I was asking you
to be
mine.