The day
the snap and split of bone
touches your ear
between the 16 set of teeth in jaw
spread the sea red
nailed tongue and roof
upward between the eyes
to close a maw and seal tight
the cave of wonder locked
once and for all.
Six inches from contact
split uprights
and
a kiss.
Fantasy.
What are you afraid of?
A hilt?
The kiss?
Or my eyes two centimeters away
from your own,
your gun still
in its hiding place?
Three inches
would have made it.
Four is over kill.
Six
is
a
statement.
Stake and art and think
next time
before you decide
to temp.
