Needles Gift
the coroner of his whole life
do the autopsy of his past
the green birds control
endless hours of the day at your side
finite wine that distills their love
bottles in my heart grape
the cup of her womb supporter
the distinctive of its juice holds me like rain
apaziguo kissing his scandal
hearts to the ground and cups to the high
its trajectory in my perfume sandalwood
chill her curves as asphalt
close your eyes and keep an open hand
his soul eagle flies in my hair
his run in my body has certain victory
needles present in weaving yarns done.
Arthur Nett
01/04/2011
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