A ribbon swirls
It pirouettes in all sorts of twirls and trajectories
In the palms of a gymnast in a floor exercise
It embellished birthday gifts and certificates of Ph.D.s.
It only knows the crispy feel
Of a newborn freshness.
And I swiveled like a ribbon
Danced like a gymnast, gifted my body in sheer bliss
To a stamp that unlocks the sweet spots
To a landslide of nectar. I made something musky
So sweet. A foul-smelling, rotting
Piece of flesh that ripened like a mango
And burst inside out.
A ribbon once cut is gone forever.
I was now a man who could rally his troupes
To beautiful melees. A little death
Was an inevitability and phosphorescence
Glowed like a neon street light.
Full moon was now smiling ear to ear
Bozo had finally found his most trusted gag.
His squirting flower.