Ani Gjika


She wants to touch the waves and then
lift the water as if it were a napkin
and cool his sweaty face. You creep,

she says to him, how can you call me icy
when I can dip my finger in the Antarctic waters,
melt the snowy pot and boil you up a salty soup?

Threaten my worlds and grow me nimble,
she told him once. Can he not feel the wet nimble she leaves
on his palm after it's crossed the netherlands?

Oh, and when he moves his hand around her belly
to stop her hunger some late morning, oh yes he feels,
she feels he feels, it's just that he's so silly,

he's completely taken now with her hair, his full lips
are marking her neck just below and behind the ears,
it's almost as if his tongue slid inside her vein,

pulsing to the same rebelling rhythm. She likes to
tease him with bad words, likes to bite his fingers, not off,
just bite a little like a cat, would you let me, she asks.
His eyes are teary like dew-heavy leaves.
They seem biddable, bid-da-ble, bida bel, bida bull,
beedabull, you be da bull, she tells him,

come on, be da bull now! Hahah, she laughs, he laughs
in her ear, she bites his fingers, he wets her hair with his mouth,
with wet fingers from her mouth. Their mouths nibble.

They are incredibly hot in this shot, aren't they?
You could almost see their breath in fact.
How would you like to buy this photograph 

for your Lady, Sir? On Valentine. She'll love it, Sir.
She'll ask you to be da bull for her.
I swear to you, Sir. Buy this photo now.

Ani Gjika is published in 3rd Muse Poetry Journal, Melic Review, Stirring etc. She is currently living in Thailand.

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