Thursday, 1 June 2017
day 25: false dichotomy
like wet cement the mud slurps at my feet
an unwelcome grass-bearded uncle planting moist kisses
on a baby's floating skull plates
the spittle spotting his chin like dew
like a passionate embrace the earth hugs my feet
a lover's raw heart pattering frantically
at the patterned arches of my soles
the mud dripping off like tears
with brash confidence you unveil her skin
with arrogant dominance you rip off the cloth
beauty lies in the eye of the beholder
atrocity seeps into the world through your eyes
it's either or. or is it? is it or or is it and?
and if it's and? then it's neither nor. it's both.