Watermelons

I saw you at the marketplace
where they ran their hands all over
the ripe watermelons

flicked off sweat
from bushy mustaches
and licked salt off their lips
Their eyes tried to edge in sideways

through the serrations of your shawl
and hot breaths slithered over the ground
at your feet, a dozen snakes
crawling
to find a gap between the hem and the dust

and I stamped upon the ground
under my cracked heels heavily
coughing up a racket
and a stick from the sheep pen
was brandished
at the swarming flies

and so threatened were the lusty eyes
that they rolled back
into their old sockets

Watermelons

You looked up then
and we bonded over a smile
learning the oldest tricks from the merry blood
chuckling under our swathed skin

The hills erupted into green arms
and clouds floated into the frame
It was a good day we had wished
upon ourselves then

The marketplace took a few steps back
and the serpents feeling our combined heels
grind on their heads
coiled back into withered loins
even as we bought a watermelon each