words by dominic riccitello

he moved
frolicked
danced in the distance
and as his eyes glistened
i wrote

his mouth moves
hands sway aside
they land upon my chest
and he grooves
his heart twirls

scared of the dark
but the sun listened
through mountains
his thighs trembled
shoulders could only handle

a heart of never
soul too yellow
stature too mellow
he loved through glasses
craved the mountain
the climb

“the taste,” he cried
yet never died
regardless time
his life
just the way he held the knife