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Posted on April 27, 2016 in Poems

In this strange, grim cave
buttressed by bone,
I am boatman
upon a phosphorescent lake.

An invisibility of touch
overlays the imaginative vision
where a thousand songs
cannot describe
the ridges and convolutions of
that wet, pink flesh.

All that is me
is centered on this parasite
suckling from the teats of a hollow bone.

I am not sure about this one. Another rewrite might be in order, but it does have some powerful images. Thoughts?

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