The Amorous Cannibal

Suppose I were to eat you

I should probably begin

with the fingers, the cheeks and the breasts

yet all of you would tempt me,

so powerfully spicy

as to discompose my choice.

While I gobbled you up

delicacy by tidbit

I should lay the little bones

ever so gently round my plate

and caress the bigger bones

like ivory talismans.

When I had quite devoured the edible you

(your tongue informing my voice-box)

I would wake in the groin of night

to feel, ever so slowly,

your plangent, ravishing ghost

munching my fingers and toes.

Here, with an awkward, delicate gesture

someone slides out his heart

and offers it on a spoon,

garnished with adjectives.