shot glass

she was old books
and new words
he liked to crawl into her mind
and lean against the gears
just to feel them turn
she contained every poem
that had yet to be written
and he was the dust of magic
that made them worth reading
she craved his tongue
like the well worn shot glass
that inspired Hemingway
and Bukowski
and she was willing to taste the burn
just to be near his flame


October 18, 2016