Exorcism
Is it me
Or does a womans body point
To her
Vagina
With every effort of her hips
To round the eye
Upon a fixed point
Star
In the summer sky
Or the gentleness of a lamb
Tip toeing through sweet meadow
Valkyries
War
Amputated tomato soup
Bleeding
Road construction fatalities
If only for a brief eyelash flicker
To heal
To rebuild
To become human
Again
Is the belly button
A sign
Or an archangel lark shaking crystal china
Doll
A baby
In all the fancy wickets
Only to yarn friction
Acts, such acts
And creatures wrought with the will
To yearn me to crawl out of my skin
And rebirth Phoenician
Snake skin shed
Cross, a holy lord
With an apple to a rumpus pear
Still hot for an iron brand
Melt
Skin to butter
To sweat
The holy lyre
I hear from her
God
That it is
What it is
hellsforheroes:
such a wonderful piece of lit-up aperture deserves a comment