Poppy Kay


Crave

Tomato soup sky surpassing the plum full moon
The pungent roar into the night, gripping my beating drum roll
Soft breath whistling amiss, reality be swoon
The lion takes a breath losing ultimate control
Brakes fear, snaking around the filthy potholes
One last look before it is pawed onto the great metal head
Allas break necks diving mid-air surfacing the soup spoon
Greying fingernails, curling toes, pupil's dilate oared deeply into the unsaid
The last warmth of the summer feel, numbed p

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