of your puckering anus,
flowering,
petals peeling back
to the bee tongue.
We are making honey
in the garden of Gethsemane.
Among the hydrangeas
and clematis,
my suckling mouth brings
pollen to your stamen.
I am your child father
my brother my son
and here I betray you
with my kiss. My fist.
I'd prefer a stiffer column, if you get my meaning:
ReplyDeleteThese tulips remind me
of your puckering anus
flowering petals peeling
back to the bee tongue.
We are making honey
in the garden of Gethsemane
among the hydrangeas
and clematis, my suckling
mouth is feeding pollen
to your stamen. I am your
child father, my brother, my
son and here I betray you
with my kiss. My fist.
another excellent poem
ReplyDelete