Eat Your Calyx Poem by Eli Spivakovsky

Chop up your poppies, eat your calyx, the red is being reflected in the knife. I feed you berries, I feed you 'waterberries', you sip them. Remember when we were shining, when the peonies scrunched towards the light and you promised you'd always pay for them, when you placed your hand on my forehead and felt my down, my grace... Oh, my little flower, I'm collapsing in first snow, it's so beautiful, the companions are being reunited.... somewhere... a far-away star, an inter-dimension. I once came here, but was forced to go back. Now I return, will you be my voyage-dweller? Will you be my fiance-spicer? Will you be my sumptuous-amour? deep-almost-black violets, my companion is back....the wolves were taking care of him.... the swans were encircling him.... the horses were blazing him purple.... my thigh is covered in bruises from all the riding.... I keep answering the door, waiting for him to come again, the bells ring and the snow falls like decibels until it lishes and cindellents itself to our sleep.