XVII
I shove chairs in my mouth.
For your comfort
and my convenience.
My knees are not meant
to support us both.
Relax.
Let me welcome you
in my own way.
My tongue
is made to conform
to your specific dimensions.
What’s the point?
It’s white darling.
Quick
and sharp.
And closing in on you.
No.
Don’t look up.
They are too many.
And too deeply
set
by my hunger.
To be swayed
by your pitiful pleas.
At least they are tonight.
(https://adaysencounter.wordpress.com/2013/02/20/xvll/)
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