Wednesday, July 13, 2016

the attic poetess

the poem entered sharply
knifing around the

then slowly
groaning like a ship
moved up through all the organs
of the body

the letting off of flairs
and degassing of magma
continued all night

until morning bright
a calculus
arrived in the skull
as a cold ball of phlegm

O muse -
this withered body
cannot make love with you
like it used to