Out of the air she made a mouth…
a month of rain followed.
Out of her eye came the Sun,
a compact disc,
a facular on her pupil…
changed the meaning of the word ‘illumination’…
a month of cubism followed.
Out of her absinth womb came sex,
a sniveling poltroon:
-O don’t die, don’t die! Our apple diabolist,
our sweet idea and psychopath…
a month of mothers followed.
Out of her stomach came hunger
and with the mouth she made
we ate it up.
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