Barbarian Caviar Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka
Barbarian Caviar
Bringing the center
of the blossom
to my lips
the irresistible aroma
is literally to die for.
I now understand
the meaning of petite mort.
Inebriated and dizzied
my tongue darts
into the salmon-colored
center never thinking a flower
can be seasoned this good.
But then it takes a barbarian
Cossack gypsy to lodge
his tongue in rose caviar.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/18/2024 6:46:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
