A Mackerel in Make Believe -PT2-
She dreamt a dream of a requisite requiem far away,
For the unrequited love of life, led her lanky lamb's limbs astray.
To where she'd dither along the moor's marsh land,
Braved the dreary draughts of randy rain and hindless hail.
She'd return without fail in her frailty.
To where the shadows cast by the leaves of the alders,
Speckled across her open back like silver freckles.
She'd sway in the clearest of days, and lay in the ravage of rain.
And in saltier slathers of gold graced spit,
She'd await the pair of goldfinches to descend upon her silver speckled clit.
Await the trill of their liquid song, sung by their acetone tongue ,
Pecking a silver chime over the pleasure of grated groans.
“No.” Her iron lungs lunged and quivered.
She supposed he knew from his exhale and shiver.
Awake, now, lesserly known nor knowing, moreso,
awaken, alone, but with the haunting face of a *** upon her window,
“outside, look outside”
It called, so she stayed inside, unknown, laying low from the randy ravage of his rage.
9/11/2025
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