Neanderthal Days
"The crunch is the thing, a certain joy in crashing through living tissue, a memory of Neanderthal days." – Edward Bunyard, The Anatomy of Dessert, 1929

Let me tell you, daylight
how I have sucked the rind of your core,
held you to my teeth
like god
held you like crisp cotton
in my fingertips,

the snow of you, lover

the gathering hunters
strut, look for mates,

the hunters gather
wayward in the valley,
mountain slope
the rope of hair pulled
taught against my scalp

the gesture makes my eyes look
larger than they in fact are,

makes you prize me, lets me
see you better, adornments not
just atonements.

We have danced this dance
since our cave days, since we
scratched starshine on the walls
in red hot pigment fresh from the
scorching earth, the molten volcanoes
gurgle like newborn babes
behind us,

we move forward,
onward, remember

you will protect me from all that I have seen.