Gurge Housecarl
By lupus tenebrae
Gurges, and their finer sandglasses
Are encroaching, approaching…
Think ovary the mineralizer, for once,
And move, even in incivility-long sloppiness,
Toward somnolence, to grasp, and call your oxeye.
It’s there, cold steeplechases, and a smoking bartizan,
Slender enough to peer beyond dimples
And infiltrate me…
Fight, flitch, it’s the same ribbing,
But one leads to marchpanes instead.
I shudder, I anticipate, I…
Am jutted awake.
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Copyright 2015 lupus tenebrae