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Drowned Tadpole

by Max Bouillet

Before the taste
a tremor and a jack
and scarlet muck
crept through the nose
of poor old Fran
Pricked and cozy
with the breath of dogs
the lick lasted longer than
a trick gone cold
and when the taste
hit... it seemed oddly sweet
like the sweat off a
virgin tit.

06/01/2003

Posted on 06/02/2003
Copyright © 2020 Max Bouillet

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by JD Clay on 06/15/03 at 05:25 PM

Now there is a interesting take. It may be somewhat esoteric but it certainly has a good feel. Good stuff, Max. Peace...

Posted by Marjorie Anne Reagan on 10/18/03 at 04:14 AM

Seems somehow fruedian to me.

Posted by Michele Schottelkorb on 12/05/03 at 07:29 AM

ooh, this is sultry, yet disturbing... what images... great piece... blessings :)

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/16/04 at 08:01 PM

Incredible read! Glad I took the time to check it out. Great example of a surreal poem.

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