The Letting Go
Skin taunt like over ripe fruitvelveteen under your mouththe way it eventually yieldsand splitswetly against the guillotineof your teeth I yield to your sharp edges I yieldI yield there is an openingin the cosmic imprint of timeand I fall through burrow beneath thelayers ofgristle and fleshthe tendons strung tightas your maniathe muffled drumof womb and pumping blood the silence between
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