a little fruit

       you’re like

       a moon I want

       to hold

       I said lemon slope

       about your

       hip

       because it’s one

       of my words

       about you

       I whispered

       in bed

       this smoothing

       the fruit &

       then alone

       with my book

       but writing

       in it the pages

       wagging

       against my knuckles

       in the

       light like a