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Drowned Tadpole
by Max BouilletBefore 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 © 2024 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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