it's neither red nor sweet. It doesn't

  • melt


  • or turn over


  • break or harden,


    • so it can't feel

    pain

    yearning

    regret.

    it doesn't have a tip to spin on,

    it isn't even shapely just a thick clutch of muscle, lopsided, mute.
    Still, I feel it inside

    its cage sounding a dull tattoo:
    I want, I want
    but I can't open it:there's no key.

    I can't wear it on my sleeve,

    or tell you from the bottom of it how I feel.

    Here, it's all yours, now

    but

    you'll have to take me, too.