It lives

in a vial — the liquid poison 
folds its way down — imitating silk.
It rests on top of her décolletage, 
hanging by the thread of life.
It anchors her breath 
down — shifts left when she lies 
right to her beloved’s ear. 
It burns sometimes 
when swallowed — she hides 
It well — between two golden 
Suns — to keep foreigners’ eyes away — 
someone breathes nervously in there, 
I creep to peep 
between her breasts,
something tiny 
in her spits out 
blue light — 

and blesses my gaze

now I have a bird’s eye view

First appeared in Papeachu Review, Issue 2