Dorian and me, the kitchen

mr dorian, i read your cliff's notes, your
pretty lips, face from a time when a
forehead was a brow and hair rippled, well
mine just grows and i'm right in front of you, mr
dorian, watch me, hands and tomatoes, breath and garlic,

six tomatoes, is how the poem starts,
see these hands in the kitchen
skinning tomatows on scalding water, their weeping
skinless the blood in my handskin a fury.
see these veins in these fingers, watch them
carry blood back to the best heart you'll
ever know, a heart beating for these hands
skinning tomoatoes
in the kitchen.