licking our lips

we spent all night trying to eat 
the moon's heart. slippery poet
& the knife was too dull. i saw 
in the glow of our freshly dead god
that you had a smile of orange to feast on.
nectar is another word for glory & joy wears
a silver backpack & just keeps walking.
all i want is to kneel & indulge. farm animals
amble the streets looking for an ancient 
agrarian society. they fill a bus & go
to the field of salt. my mouth waters 
every time i hear a bell. pavlov knew nothing.