To the head

So and so beautiful the drawl.
Not two strips deep-in-pulse
but bare in cover, the mouth,
nor scores of holes therein
mounds of hurried top. Or what’s
on top of all that’s buried
beneath what everyone paws for
or knows is heat.
Beneath such a thing
lies an invert of stretching
yaw sideways and yaw sideways
you there lithe for once
halfway on my knee and halfway on the bed.
Cool for once after lady
pours through the voice into a chord
you own, you there alone.

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~ by Jeremy on November 14, 2010.

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