Another day, another poem. Liliana tried to time it to hit right around when Ignis would be taking a moment to enjoy his coffee, so he'd have enough time to listen.

"Bring me your pain, love. Spread
it out like fine rugs, silk sashes,
warm eggs, cinnamon
and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me

the detail, the intricate embroidery
on the collar, tiny shell buttons,
the hem stitched the way you were taught,
pricking just a thread, almost invisible.

Unclasp it like jewels, the gold
still hot from your body. Empty
your basket of figs. Spill your wine.

That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it,
cradling it on my tongue like the slick
seed of pomegranate..."

tenderly, as a great animal might
carry a small one in the private
cave of the mouth.