Elocution To Bitter Cola Iii
Why slaying the stars
& rigorously binding their light
for listening ears under the mango tree
to frame folktales for midnight song,
make a geysers of yellowstone
carrying fresh fetch palm wine—
put their tongues to taste the juice,
to kiss the faces of roses.
I tell you, they aren't the equation
where xy=0
the shape of a doughnut
set orderly for rituals—
the contents of misery.
for their body won't be yours
to slice an orange
to fill your sac
after greasing their dreams with frost.
Copyright © Excel Chinagorom Michael | Year Posted 2022
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