Abandoned Path

If I had to taste you
I surely would
and would be glad

despite my fear
that you might taste
like an abandoned path

In memory of brilliant
anxious days
on tightrope and glass

I might approach you
with mouth hung open
as if I were wary cat or ready snake

for you remind me
of antique daggers, red silk scarves
Engraved exquisite revolvers

punching high tight holes
wherever they’re pointed
You remind me of how I’ve bled

and how I would
bleed now
if I were to taste you

and name your flavor
on my tongue
as rediscovered path