Melts in Your Mouth, Not in Your Hand

I wanna be in the m&m's ~ army,
dump my pea-size body 
in puddle after puddle of chocolate
until I'm big enough to earn my m  
in an army of mmmm's.  

After tackling the obstacle course,
they'd lead us bald privates
to the candy-shell showers.

Proudly displaying our colors, 
we'd receive our m's,  but our men
will never get to see us melt,
never feel the chocolate inside
waiting to be warmed 
between a gentle tongue 
and the ridged tip of his mouth,
dying just to be swallowed.

In his mind, his eyes will remind 
him only of the candy coating,
the heavy metaphor at the end 
of what could have been
a delightful morsel.






copyright 1994 kathy jo kramer