The hen and her chicks

I love a good flower.
No hot summer, sweet season
tongueless thinking months
the three then fattening sap
drops and weeps and dries.
Two vulvas intertwine,
two fall like wrapping paper
to kids and to kids the sap
weeps on their mouths,
marks them its, marks them
playing on their heads.
What is there but fleece
coated in unrotting honey,
drenched in a girl’s sex,
smelling of earth, and goes
down to any willing hand
to dry on or drink in?


~ by Jeremy on February 5, 2011.

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