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ladder laden
Mud caked pool
My heart shaped bore
Goodbye my sweet red rose charm
Off to another water hole she’s gone
Fertile bomb multiplied by
Tears, sparks, ripped shirts, ink and wine.
Bored of us both she climbs.
A vespine pupa.

Once at the top
There’s a barrel of muck
To throw down below.
All sides sniper
In flushed private
In kind.
A fly on fly
Proboscis and bile
Framed wreaths, fireplace, silver cards and bloodied linen sheets
Bored of bore’s load we climb.

No cracks, no creaks nor fading
The gall, the gall, the gore.
No cracking, no creaking no fading
Of the dose – with it’s slub and lure.

We’re just heat to a stone.

Violet blooms spiral round our breast.

Cool, cool winds
Thin threads
Up here.

Violet blooms spiral round our breast.

Cool, cool winds
Thin threads
To bare.

Violet blooms turn slow without want.

Expectation.

Violet blooms turn slow without want
Of what we are.
 
 
 
© 2012 andrew plummer
 
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