Hips Don’t Lie But I Do
You’re hard to find as hen’s teeth. I
give chase, bark like a fucking squirrel.
Faceless in the half light, half-cocked. Tell me
more, yes, phalanges please. There’s a lesson
in your good health. Patented, vascular, virile…
A for effort. I’m the rubber, and you’re the grass.
No, reverse that. It’s the last scene in this
cardinal direction, where you split into antler shapes.
The sinking myth. The ribbon between our tongues.
Clench, and I’ll clench back.