Liquid Gold

Cora Hyatt

My boy kisses like summer apricots and

Sunday mornings spent walking

on the old pier’s creaking planks.

His kisses are gilded,

they’re the pollen bees carry to grow

strawberries, and so I see him

in every flower, every blade of grass,

every fruit I bite through

and let the juice run down my chin

and stain my teeth.

My boy’s got eyes like warm honey,

like a glass of whiskey on nights you like it.

Like molten gold that melts your skin off,

and you let it.




___





Cora Hyatt is a poet, student, and Indiana transplant presently living in Portland, Oregon. She has been published in Writers Magazine, Cordella Magazine, and Five South, among others. Read more @lipglossdiet on Instagram.  If delivering flowers, send red carnations.