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a b b a t o i r

by Johanna May

Did I ever tell you
the other realm where we touch
you are wordless as an animal,
and I am likewise folds that take flanks,
bled scratched rump.
We echo like flesh on butcher slabs,
knifeless but stabbed of each keening intent.
Such death, yours guttural,
mine shocked squeal.


Posted on 01/12/2013
Copyright © 2024 Johanna May

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