She’s an
eloquent bee-swallower.
All the
boys crowd around her and think,
“I just
want to wallow in her.”
She
takes each of their stings and spits it back in their
Brick-like
faces, only they can’t see the beauty of its slime.
She’s an
eloquent bee-swallower.
They
call her this, that and the other.
She
says, “You don’t know the half of it.”
I just
want to wallow in her.
Eyes of
blue and green are
wasted
on the colour-blind bricks which long for the moisture of her spit, but
she’s an
eloquent bee-swallower.
Her eyes
meet with mine and we share
a joke
only we two can appreciate, in its sophisticated simplicity.
I just
want to wallow in her.
We roll
our eyes and leave the empty room together.
We two
will be intimate in our silent understanding.
She’s an
eloquent bee-swallower.
I just
want to wallow in her.
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