McCannot (prodigalsun) wrote,
McCannot
prodigalsun

devol.

the grapes she feeds you pensively
are bruised & faceted
like dice.
father darwin lingers
in the kitchen,
trimming the fat
& whistling to himself,
picking his teeth
idly with our spines.
the milky way
is a pouch of silent marbles
& deep inside them
you are still blanketed
by her body, an avalanche.
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