Wrapped in You I Am the Present

Boy, your morning breath tastes
like something at its ripest

canned & saved for only me.
I want to record and record

and record the sounds of you
finishing on a limited edition

set of cassettes. Boy you are
worth betting on, biting over,

flexing at. When you come home
with all those canvas bags of food

and flowers you saved
from fences for me

I just wanna empty you
like a jug of homemade juice

straight into the back
of my throat, that skin-red aisle

of my body built to shuttle what you got
into the places where I do my needing

BY TAYLOR MARDIS KATZ

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Taylor Mardis Katz is a poet and part-time farmer living in Vermont. Her poems have made an appearance on the radio, in a farmer’s almanac, in a seasonal quarterly focused on whole foods, in handmade chapbooks, and in literary journals such as The Connecticut Review and H_NGM_N. She was once told by a professor, “Every poem you write is a love poem,” and she was pleased as punch. Future plans include establishing a farm with her partner, eating in abundance the fruits of her labor, and inviting everyone to join her. She keeps a scroll online at panacheperhaps.com.