Smells dissolve into tastes,
yet no spoon to sauce;
just imagining is enough.
Onion, tears of onion,
burning cloves of garlic,
lingerie for nude beans.
Smell and taste like touch
Sensuous food strokes
Erotica of taste, like breath
on skin. Orgasm of spices,
so reptilian brain-like,
the way smell-taste feels.
We eat so fast, we forget…
Stew boiling over fire,
masking Girl Scout desires.
Some-mores and pine on the mind.
Tastes mixed with smoke
surf on the wind, sketching
the boundaries of bodies.
Only here, in life itself
these sensorial gifts of pain
and pleasure take root.
Reminds me of loving you.
©2011 Joanne Sprott