Your love
is hard-edged,
electrically charged,
a roiling mass
of chemical interactions,
carrying with it
the promise
of a swollen tongue
and hard-cramping muscles.
I watch helplessly
as my limbs
thrash around,
foam on my lips,
spine crackling
like pork rinds
in a fire.
editors note:
I will be your pork rind if you will be my fire. Sweet crackle and spit. – mh clay