The Brutish Man Poem by james watkin

The Brutish Man

The brutish man
Stands there half stripped.
The primitive yet rippling through!
Growlingly lipped.

Cave-lit vision
At her doorway!
Times, prehistoric lived again!
With no foreplay!

Saturday, August 31, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: man,violence
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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