The esoteric mammoth penetrates
the midnight, helical breeze
Its mouth, its breasts, its hips
Pounding, excruciating
The nymph slowly pulsates
with the rancid rain
In a cerulean vial
will cast its sweet shadow
Behind a lurking cobweb
I gloat
Rifling, skulking
With my feathery armor
Gone
It's gone, gone, gone
Copyright ©
October 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
With your feathery armor behind a lurking cobweb you gloat. An amazing brilliant poem is shared here.10