Perfume

I have to look
Beyond your scratch
Beyond my itch
Beneath your deep
And boundless lips
To the whirl of stars
Between your sighs
the world of kicks
Which thee your thy's
You are not a hole to fuk
A blob of jelly
Custard curls
A marble belly
You are not a sweet to suck
A shopping trolley
Full of muck
Like tins of salmon
You are not
A joint of gammon
You are we are it is
Perfume
All these tastes
And undercurrents
Fill the void with breath and purpose
Joy becomes our speculation
You are something more than diamond
Salt and mucus cooked by God
Dancing like a wave or photon
Moving through a viral triptych
Like an orchid bent and greying
Like the funeral

Of a quark.