Roaming Between Flowers (Yes, We Are the Fucking Birds and the Bees)

Roaming Between Flowers (Yes, We Are the Fucking Birds and the Bees)

We lay
down together
and we savour every
place our tongues can reach. There is salt,
and sweet,

and sour,
and, way back near
our throats, a lingering
astringence, a thin bitterness
that speaks

slowly
of other times,
and other places we’ve
moved our tongues and fingers, asses
and cocks

and cunts.
For we all lay
down together in our
different nights and days and ways
of want,

and we
carry from bed
to bed and love to love
our odours and those fragrances,
those tastes.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Cinquain, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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