Issue 99 - John Blair

by John Blair

If you pick a tick from a live oak leaf
and set it crawling on your tongue for me
to contemplate with every kiss, and if
you take it, pumpkin-seed between your teeth,

and crack its brittle lacquer back, I'll taste
the crust of Eucharist with you and share
the blood and leavened bread we both have blessed
with spit and temple salt, salarium

of sweat and sin and small regret; then all
the shivered straw of breath, the doubled beast,
the ark of lurid lies both tart and small
will snake us coupled back to Eden's east

to lick the Judas salt inside our wrists
and tempt a godless angel with our kiss.