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Venus
by Jolie JordanThe fruit of my love is a cruel thing, my dear.
Where I am but a mass of beating hearts
and habitual blackened lungs,
wrapped up in your early mornings.
You hang nightly like a leech
from the noose of my lips,
as the moon beats harsh upon our backs.
We are the mother, scolding the cavity of her womb
for turning out a little too much like herself.
You are a pendulum,
swaying against the fleshy grip
of my bold thighs.
Beware my selfish swan song, though.
I can sing you lullabies
while I cling back,
watching you slowly fall
into my fly trap.
05/18/2015 Posted on 05/19/2015
Copyright © 2025 Jolie Jordan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/20/15 at 03:05 PM "You hang nightly like a leech
from the noose of my lips," Now there are a couple of lines I won't forget soon. Lots of vivid good stuff here. And with that first line, you gave fair warning. Thanks! |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 05/25/15 at 02:09 AM Lush and deceptively simple in the best way. |
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