Olives

My love is spread about your feet
A banquet laid from which you pick
An olive placed between your toes
That drips pimento juice, then rolls
Across the floor
Beneath the couch,
Beneath your note,
Forgotten, lost
The moist remains between your toes
Salty, bitter,
Never sweet.

All Rights Reserved, Alicia Fitton 2019
Picture courtesy of Ponce Photography
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