Photography by Kate Turner
my neck hurts from going down on you all morning
it should be my jaw
or maybe the raw musculature (genioglossus) of my tongue
bruised from emulating Samson
pushing you out from under yourself
to collapse over me.
when it (my tongue) curved to take you in (styloglossus)
you song (hyoglossus)
your choke (palatoglossus)
but it is none of these things.
they are seasoned.
born for it.
made for you.
and you were fair.
you were (lovely) fair.
but my neck.