(Breakfast with Mama Killa)

A butterfly cut of crimson
Folded over
Lap napkins of skin

Rivulets burgundy
Pinstripes of sin
Sangre sacrada
Red clay pottery
Chipped
On painted
Lips
Smeared
In open palms
Licked off fingertips

She plunges her moonlight
Inside the vacancy
Pulling invisible
Limbs
From
Scarlet walls
Ghost tremors
Of heartbeats
And tiny toes
Kicking away

As so she pulls the waves
From the sea
She pulls the life
From me
Breaking the fast
With a deluge
Of regret
Aimless semen
And
Scrambled eggs.