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.