Monday, 21 October 2024

A kiss on that mark

Where you have a vaccine mark etched 


Slithering from there to above

Where the forests becomes dense 


I will snake my way leisurely 

Leaving a trail of hickeys all over


You arch in anticipation as I reach your volcanic core 

But I spill my ashes 

Near your gateway 

As my offering to the goddess.

©LR



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