~ T h e   F l a g l e r    R e v i e w ~

Morning Toast

The morning pours its Mimosa sunlight into the bed
our limbs melted down
into the shape of a warm sepia glass

I smell the citrus on your lips
your tipsy tongue
teasing the flushed plane of skin
below my ear

We whisper a toast to the morning
cling, cling
to us, to us.