Dairy Queen Sonnet

My love, her eyes are night time, bright and full
As moon’s eclipse, negative as camera
Film and flammable as lips, gilded red
As motel bedrooms, cheap perfume, velour,
Although in make up always flaky, is
True, ma chère amour, in atria and
Ventricles, and all that she has spilled – wine
Stains all spread across our bed, bleeding lip—
Stuck kisses – skilled, precise, and cold as ice
In whiskey turned to cream – libations blessed
By her undressed – my goddess, Dairy Queen
Of hearts, black arts, strawberry tarts, a feast
Bacchantic sweet, as richly from her pours,
Amour, all the honey milk you can eat.

The End

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