Scrambled EggsIn my rocket by the sea— He slept by my breast. His fingers pressed my heart, my sand, We couldn't wake up. We could hear violins: Creamed-colored, two-colored, Our bare skin Gift-wrapped, a couple of seeds— Naked and irrigated as oceans, So the sky smiles— I envy his frigid housewife, The scramble of eggs each morning—  |
|
||||
| Copyright © 1999 – 2024 Juked |
|
