his lips remind me of

an unhusked sunflower seed

their taste is the same:

salty, a bit bitter

his lips are opening shells of seed


when my tongue caresses his ear

I remember Van Gogh

and think of what would be,

what would happen, if I bit –


I don’t want to return

his body

I’ll leave yellow blossoms as change

black seeds


what would grow if I were to sow those lips like seed?

Translated by Rimas Uzgiris