Friday, May 6, 2011

several familiesworth

a lone cold bone amongst brush
slow to roast, slow to blush
the crunch and lingering still of a crush/

tonguing my cud
slobber and gravel, a cheek of mud
baldfaced boulders, mountainous molars
the scent of menstrual blood/

a winding height along the lake
a silent white meridian wake
stretching away at the polars.

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