Wooden veins
Tunnels of air
Vital hollowness
Sighs of despair
Rivers of blood
Deadly eagerness
Giggles of flair
Stomach filled
With earth
Strangle of contempt
Steady rhythm
Salted alleyway
Flowing to
The end
No, no hope
Of holiness
In this creature’s
Fruity eyes
Nor the seeds under
Its smile
Is there a thought,
A sentiment, an emotion
Inside the scrambled branches
Of its head?
Does it know at least
About the love
I have
Sprouting in my breasts?
No comments:
Post a Comment