I imagine Isabelle Huppert’s demure
face tastes like sloe pineapple
upside-down cake. glassy and sweet.
the stray baked berries
I imagine kissing those cheeks is just like
the time my skull was heaped open
by that plumed stone plunged from a towering perch.
et tâches de rousseur, salés!
wanton sparks dashed astreak
that full-length gasp, so vast
and – ruthlessly – disharmonious,
the whole-blossomed jolt
sirened a frenzied hum of bees.
Isabelle Huppert -- Norbert Mauritius