Lindworm

i.
I have shed for you, Peaches

For you I am diving into a fair-complected pool of cream
Thicken my arteries, pale ideal

Your arms a soft mellifluence
Be cradley
Be motherly
Cover my slithering sins

Let me lay my head against your breast and feel the subcutaneous flow
The white rising to the top
No jaundice, no despised gristle, only honey hair

Coat the teeth and line the throat
Soften the scream I have loosed for you, Peaches

ii.
There was a daughter
That was the promise of the crone
Red for a boy, white
For a girl
What horror when we do not look like they think we should
I have gnashed up other girls in my indignation

iii.
I will come out of this milky
Match the roses in my cheeks to yours
Bathe in our sameness

iv.
When they find us in the morning will they think me pure?
If my skin is the color of cream, will they mind the rest?