Clare Hornsby

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Nil by Mouth

As impatient Dives with dry mouth
I sit pointless and passive
Prepped for theatre, they insist.
Bound in half-garments
Captive, too naked to escape
In waking thoughts I wander
And slake my thirst in dreams:

To touch the tip
Of my tongue
In the dip of your top lip
And slip
Down inside to lick
And wet the gap
That improbably exists
Between your white teeth.

Despite your sadness
Find and quench
Your parched and burning heart.