What Do Lesbians Do in Bed?

It’s as if you’ve always had
Meat and potatoes
Which filled, or offered
A plate of white stacked buttered bread
Where it didn’t

When one day

In front of you
An exquisite platter, heaped and parted
With colors and textures that
Surprised and exceeded
Every time

Upon your tongue
The hard dark bitter of an olive
Unto you the olive’s patience
Bitter delight
Windy countryside’s layered buffet

Upon your tongue
The softest French cheese
Open soft-mouthed sounds and
Sweet grasses, hosts
To love’s bare-bottomed press and
Wildflowers’ shameless quiver

Carrots, potatoes, radishes, and
All things rooted in the sassy snap of
Mother Earth
Unto you the sass
Unto you the snap
Unto you the dirty honesty of their uprooting

Cream, spun of all the dizziness
Of a thousand adolescent kisses
Spinning
Spinning
Spinning
To separate for you the best to offer
You the top
Should you tire of the bottom

Pink, fleshy salmon
Taste of before the before the before
No-
Before that. Salmon blue that dreamt
the big bang
Eternity, to you
A toast

Meats tenderized and cured
Smoked salty like what’s always left behind
Where something wonderful has been
Death, upon your tongue,
Submissive

Fruits that seek the fleshy wet confines
Of your mouth with childish innocence, each
Particular in its burst and in its
Surrender

You leave full
Her scent upon you
Everything given,
Nothing taken