Martyr’s Song

Loved this poem by a young poetess named Bijou

tin hats

Did a tongue run over lips eclipse
the bank of a dry stream like a fish on flips
and flopping like dinner, lunch.
You found my center and sunk your teeth in, crunch.

So my bones gave up the ghost to your lips, a gift.
A rift in time, so juicy like limes,
belly like a petal wilting, ticking like time.

Your voice like a gong, taste the sound of divine –
O lover where are we and must we still climb?

Will I rest, hashtag #blessed? I’ll eat your stress until I’m choking,
Til tears flood my eyes and it’s your body I am smoking,
Takes me high like a kind bud, like a junkie with open hands,
needing love but taking money, you supply and I demand.

In a chemical haze I do dream of the bees sipping clover,
Do they tremble and buzz with bliss when it’s…

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