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 Dec 2019 Nicholas M Dao
EmB
Kiss me with your iron lips,
cold, unyielding, rigid as your mind.
Your smoke curls down,
caresses my hips.
I smell of rain and trees
and fragrant flowers,
but when we join,
your scent is all that matters.
Harsh, coppery, it weighs on
my tongue,
harassing my senses,
and pushing me down.
We move together,
a torrid of steps,
I try to be flexible,
sway around your form.
You’re stubborn,
push me away,
make me bend to you.
I shed tears,
rivers deep enough for fish.
My cries are that of an eagle,
an owl, a hawk,
--take your pick.
Hands shaking,
broken trees never replaced.
My world is dying,
stuck under
your heavy boot,
one of rubber,
the dominance of men,
of industry and
selfish civilization
which grind away at me until
I am hurt,
beyond repair.
I am nature and you are man.

— The End —