Lip Prints: Fuse My Genes With Fish Scales
You are a matryoshka half, a hull, under my ribs—
I built your portrait with red
kisses. Pink flowers
your hairline—my vermilion borders overlap,
they blend smooth. I color your curls
ombre. I could never melt enough crayons,
whirl them with petroleum to make the right shade
for your irises. I purple them
instead with puckered burgundy. I blot dark
rouge in the cove, once beating, now flat
between your clavicle & neck. I could scoop you out
like a grapefruit, pack pulp between my rolled tongue,
place my head in your concave rind. Your fingers rest
on my hips like the rhythm of splashing water.
Christina Mortellaro is a senior English (Creative Writing) and communication major at SUNY Geneseo. She has been previously published in Gandy Dancer and her poetry has been presented at the 2015 and 2014 Sigma Tau Delta International Convention. In her spare time, you can find Christina binge-watching Netflix while attempting to clean her room—a forever chore. Christina’s literary best friend is and will always be Jo March from Little Women.
<< 1 poem by Robin Mendoza 1 poem by Rachel Beneway >>