El Divino Ii
JOEL
I go through you
weaving
strings of finely minced clippings
But, on the green Elysian
I will devour you
I will show you mortal wings
cunning lips as sweet as money.
Through the eye of the needle,
trough the open lids of desire,
I will thread you poems of harvest.
Copyright © Roxane Aristy | Year Posted 2019
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