Whoever the next person
I meet
who brings poems
to my brain
of buzzing accolades
in wonderful noise
Oh it seems I’m in love
with the way the words
fit inside my palm
like kisses of the future
Read my veins
see the blood through me
the textures of my hand
written like aged prophecies
I hold all of the divinities
of tasting poetry
on my tongue
like honey
Kail Anderson 