litchi

in bundles wrapped with twine
litchi stirs the senses
from twig to tongue

fingernails peel prickled skin
like a leathered scab
seeping honey from the wound;
orbs of pulp, pried from seed
by roving spirals of tongue,
glaze lips a sweet sticky sour;
mouth weeping tears of nectar
rolling in confluence between
a sugared valley of breasts

I pluck these pleasures
{again} {again} {again}
until the branch lies bare