Your smile as wide as weeds,not dandelion, not wish gone to seed.but buffalo burr, pretty as it is noxious,stinging spines beneath vibrant yellow petalbite make nerves of wild horses die screaming,dilate the pupils wide makes the eye drown in light.
Your tongue Angels Trumpet wise women wearbehind their ears lick the delicate drum to keep the oraclealive, humming some celestial song until the bonesdance in that cochlear golden ratio ripples untilthe hair stands on end, as Sybil in chiffonburning her cherished books to ashas every true prophecy, perishable.
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