talk to a goddess

Scramble Eggs by Paula Sfeir

His gall white hands pleasured-
My Red Sea rolled over-
So his arrogance and my kindness
Came by stormy weather, irrigating the sun.

We created black ejaculations.
The smoothness of our silks sang!-
Red as an apple by trees!
The actions of our impure roller coasters-

In my rocket by the sea
He slept by my breast.
His fingers pressed my heart my sand,
We couldn't wake up.

We heard violins:
Cream-colored, tow-colored,
Our bare skin
Gift-wrapped-a couple of seeds-

Naked and irrigated as oceans,
So the sky smiles-
I envy his frigid housewife,
The scramble of eggs each morning.

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