| Beneath the drain drawing lines from the fleshy groove of my falling arm a spider spies hot lunch box bare leg bristle baby boy whine And I am caught like a bunny in the briar pelt torn worn thorned raw By little pincers little mouths suckling, suckling drinking dry ducts gills snared white belly open milk for mugwumps breasts beaten blue by you through you through you my blood my blood lines the sky Visit A.K.'s website at www.a.k.abbruzzi.com |
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