A thorough love
ties me tight
like string of conversation
Knotted up hard
The thickest wool
a toxic condensation
I cannot cut
the thread of blood
red as my heart that bleeds
An oiled vapour
soiled earth
a mother of the leaves
Not a wimper shall it mutter
or a word of wrong to wear
for if it was, my love, a creature
It would be one to fear
And do not cross it, it will grow
and paint the morning sky
and you should fall in love with him
the same way that have I.
...
He'll shake his head and gnash his teeth
And rear his hairy back
But all the while
this fierce creature
Will bite a smile back.
Photo: Joes Computer
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