Twiggy was a fixture around town,
in white-face and blackened eyes,
among the soft tissue of the poincianas.
Despite gallons of blood,
throat slicing galore and enough
smashed skulls to justify a certificate,
these horrors were not the scariest
elements of perfect texture—so smooth
they melt so delightfully in your mouth.
No tug of war among teeth, tongue
and throat for this exquisitely done rice cake!
Tasting spit salivating from your lips,
and a magnetic force to your grip.
A message of bitter hate
ignites like fire from
the lump in your throat,
sprinting over your willing tongue
before being captured
by pursed lips.
Sharpening the tart edge of your tongue comes naturally.