Member Poem

This is not finish.
This is full-bodied, big-boned beginning.
This is kiss me, I’m mine.
This is hold me up to 12 o'clock sun.
This is see the light push through my fingers,
see my skin become the red of my inside.
This is follow me down to the black roads,
chalk my name onto the pavement, car-sized.
This is read me out, letter by heavy letter.
This is hold me under your tongue,
stick me to the roof of your mouth,
spill me from your lips like thick,
lumbering, molasses title of tome.
This is call me tomorrow,
and the next day,
and the next.
This is I may be home,
or I may have somewhere
holier to be.