Marginalia on Rappaccini's Daughter

    my mouth,
the other makes a fist
and rubs under
        her chin, the sides
of her mouth, her ears as she lifts her

slowly twists her head,

drooling with pleasure
    the noise from the street

the breath behind me

    light disappears, flickers

        long wet fingers tap the

engine approaching

        her pupils widen
            until there’s nothing, black