Aware. Free.

Let me tell you about the ladle
it holds the weight of what it doesn’t taste
transferring the heat carried from the pot.
There is a distance between its well and a well
so be aware the waters it stirs.

Inside the world of thoughts
hold steadfast the ordinance of sin.
I kissed her in the booth of a free wine
Red to be precise like the walls in her legs
the mouth of her free third tones.

so dig the words without me
call actions to the scene while I play
the same scenes in your dirty head.
I, a failing dance step that lands in the middle
I give a sweet scent to the voice behind your head.

Ruddapoet