White thread spun through your hair
tangles between my fingers
and ties knots around my tongue.
I gag, "love, kiss, touch"
to your earrings, your ears are reserved
for needles skipping like heartbeats on 45s.
I'm afraid to crack you,
be left standing over dropped eggs
in a supermarket with a dead attendant.
When no one comes to mop up my mess
the shoppers wait and stare
until my clothes unwind in my hair.
The thread pulls me naked into you.
Crossing the cold linoleum
you whisper, "kiss, touch, love"
onto my bound tongue.
Egg whites drip between my fingers
as I approach the cashier.
He takes the crumpled foam box and asks,
"Is that all for today?"
