‘Atlas Leapt’

I have a doctorate in your geology

enough on the forms to fill a lecture syllabus

Metamorphic and igneous

I’ve fracked petrol from the source

Watched it flow in dripping pleasure

tormented by hydraulics stealing your shine.

 

Textured composition in your brainwaves;

I’ve mapped them.

Volcanic eruptions, thick lava of lust;

I’ve felt them occur,

On my leg and in my mouth and around my

chest where your head sleeps.

 

Synclinal synchronization, a gentle bend downwards

Anticlinal hospitalization, the science of rising from hospice

You could never bear those sickly sounds:

Hospice of a deer, sweetly doe-eyed running

& the antlers of her lover, heaving animal sighs.

 

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