high-heeled song
dip-dive the magpieor the brushing butterfly
as you sleep after lunch
the enjoyment of your mouth pulsating
against the open wound
of a nevering
reverence of birds
her high-heels get stuck in the dry grass
get under your skin
your skin under nails
licking myself clean
sitting astride
the midsummer moon
forever in a beehive pattern
of lisped promises
or choosing the luck
of a luckless bird
the bird has a high-heeled song
of moons and luck,
the midsummer nevering
like a pulsating wound
your sleep is astride
the dry nails of butterflies
dipping under the stuck reverence,
or butterflies that choose themselves
instead of licking and a promise
posted by Cathy @ 11:08 AM
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