purging close corners of mind
dreams made of ink and thought
with my tongue going astray
into the ashes of my memory
clinging to shadows of my worn
the weight of your bones
in the mahogany my casket lay
waiting for the lonely thighs
beneath the sod my cod obeys
misty ugly the cold I pray
dissolving into my obscene
leaving only the quiet









Descriptive, sensual and moving.
An inviting, surreal read. x
Thank you, Rosie.