The smog studded crow
Balancing on our tongues
glued with saliva
Looking for a pitcher in a somatic summer
Over the blueberry hills
A desperate river rushes down the nerves…
Panting breathlessly to see the moon
Plop!
My tongue salivates , the crow lays here.
“Every woman adores a fascist”
And the red reptile
Boiling restless
For women and grass
The night now flapping its wings
For claws scorched by burning lips
And the friction of teeth
More like a fascist
More like a mirror
The pebbles over the jaw safe keeps
The bird of language, taste
And saliva,
The bird that manipulates
easy eyes.
2 comments:
Very nicely written
A number of strong turns of phrase, particularly in the opening and closing stanzas. Nicely done.
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