Kiki Theo

clogged and creamy mass of sour milk
dehydrating in a thick and salty tear of mud
a crimson gorge that nestles between
billowing folds of bamboo

Linda Price
 
Between                            
                                                                                                   
she slips into a deep pool of goat’s milk:
stone columns white as her teeth
line secret caves beneath the palace
where no man dares.
neither jasmine oil, nor attar of rose can drown
the smell of hide. deep languid waiting fills her to the hilt:
a restless, gnawing throb of violent ache;
longing to rip her hair, tear at her eyes,
thrash through these tranquil pools of silk,
unleash a clogged and creamy mass of sour milk.
 
eyes blazing she emerges naked, savage,
black mane covering dripping milk buttocks
scented in goat’s hide and roses. impatiently
she grabs her spear 
leaps onto her horse. mind in turmoil
her lust pulses between her thighs in flood 
maidens scurry, doors open, gape, shut,
pages drop lutes and goblets:
a bowl of strawberries falls with a thud
lies dehydrating in a thick and salty tear of mud
 
 
galloping restless forests, she cannot find him
grasping through caves and lily-covered dales
she climbs the eagles crags. then far below the sea.
foam, mounds of sperm caressing the sand,
in and out. her fury mounts. she lunges
at the cold waves, swims to an isle that’s never been
tangled, glistening, spent, wrung. then
calm as dark tides change
she settles into being
a crimson gorge that nestles between
 
between life and death, between night and day
she threads her way through
centered in the moon upon her breasts
lying on a seaweed bed. finally.
he comes to her between the spaces. caressing
her milky white skin with a promise to
wing her away, poured lavishly across his back
on a palisade of violet satin. flowing nectar
between crevices. minutes of bliss balance on the edge of his lips. deep blue
throbbing ecstacy  in billowing folds of bamboo
 

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