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touka
Poems
Dec 2019
tongue
my mind keeps getting
snagged,
catching on these fictions,
concoctions –
I see her
in the night
tearing into the undressed hind of the ram
like a fresh-gouged slice of honeydew melon
the pulp of his flesh red,
trickling off the slant of her lips
I think I'd offer her the cimeter
and use of the free oven
but I'm not sure it's the meal she's after
Written by
touka
23/F/Wilmington, NC
(23/F/Wilmington, NC)
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