Evening, through visions of blue Smoke rolling over the waving Sand of desert, the silvery bullets of Rain, momentus folds of arms careened my rib cage. Coiled by cold marble of Statue in the upside-down cathedral of our Begin. Begin with Might, traveled and leatherous height being Woman. Stone houses are a memory to mean we are found. Lost, we Child on the Miles of Weather, feet the barest and broken heeled.
Lucky Crosses glint off the bumper of a Chevelle, with the smell of your pussy still in the backseat, warming into noon. Where you came with me, Woman, I found the Tundra stomped by us, and followed the stomping, to a 4-walled marriage, cloaked in jacketed, covered, wrapped, enveloped, swathed, curled animal Coat.
And we are not Found.
The first time I met you, we were barely alive.
Lethos. Barracuda. Midlake. Your thighs append my own, I’ll be your Crush.
When you came home, it was but an instinct to Gift to you the Fur I gave, in Secret.
I have a name and no voice. Bodies know so much more. Don’t make me say what I can sing with my Skin.