Salty clouds breathing mineral air
Through their tangled hags’ hair
Glossing over pores and numbing.
One’s marsupial gut,
Timeless
Next to another’s
Honed and sinuous extremities.
The splintered pole
Crevassed amidst her thighs,
A comfort to the soft
Lapels of her vagina.
Shall age prevail?
And youth toil?
Time tell us of the spells we cast?
We burn for you
The crackle of our fingertips
Lost amongst the flames.
But the smell
The stench…
It rests on the shoulders of men
And their bones remember.
For in every action there is inaction,
In every word a promise.
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