woman – it is when your hairbreadth laughter
spreads into the world, pressed low against the breast
of grass and skirts of flowers,
like a well-oiled lamp, you proceed with your
terse splendors, your sharp wingtips curved with gropes
of steel with what notion of a senseless blow but a smile
scrunched deep within the water?
rammed into the dry throat of the afternoon,
a hot flesh half-bitingly rippling, fondling into my throbbing
water – from the abrupt, sweet-smelling rise of tide
arrives what I am in pursuit as a man, smoothly writhing
the languor of tired believing the always, do you still cling
to me like harsh wind in Spring?
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
woman – it is when your hairbreadth laughter
spreads into the world, pressed low against the breast
of grass and skirts of flowers,
like a well-oiled lamp, you proceed with your
terse splendors, your sharp wingtips curved with gropes
of steel with what notion of a senseless blow but a smile
scrunched deep within the water?
rammed into the dry throat of the afternoon,
a hot flesh half-bitingly rippling, fondling into my throbbing
water – from the abrupt, sweet-smelling rise of tide
arrives what I am in pursuit as a man, smoothly writhing
the languor of tired believing the always, do you still cling
to me like harsh wind in Spring?
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