I jump like diced onion
on the hot wok, your tongue,
splattered oil, virgin from grease,
too low a smoke point
to be in this fray.
My hands heal, don’t they?
like hovercrafts,
just barely over,
the niblets you bare there,
perfect triple toe
double
sokow,
yours for the asking.
icy toe
loops
frozen chips
fly, like diamond
teeth, rub you,
fever
down, rub you, fever
spikes, up
the wall, my knuckles
the back of your head
against sheetrock,
steady rocking,
neighbors toe tapping
to the beat,
smiles on their faces,
when the fat lady sings,
she’s a rainbow,
comes in colors,
true divas,
not pop divas,
come
in coloratura.

© Chicheme, 2013