Saturday Poetry: Gorgeous Puddin'

In my next life

(if I get one)

I’m coming back as

Gorgeous Puddin’.

I’m coming back

to sing

scatting blue notes

through the pillars

that are my teeth.

They’ll hesitate

blue notes will,

quavering in their need

honeyed on the vulva

that is my mouth.

One note, a whole note

will tumble and slide

across the lounge, catching

(like a bb frenzied)

one the rim

of my next man’s ear

where it will tickle him

and unsettle him and

make his hands to stumble

(his fingers to splay).

They’ll flutter and sigh

and long to send me

one finger.

For me, one haloed digit,

upstage, at my piano.

Here where I lay playing

with tongue heavy

and lips ready

for his love.