deepundergroundpoetry.com

Pet of the Month

An old girl going down each morning,
after hard days making the nights look good,
with horizon cloud mantles adorning
the atmosphere that we misunderstood;

her orbits being a death watch on us,
as we clear more brush, because it is there,
and because we must make a profit fuss
until we poison all the fucking air...

the very air her posh beams inspire
like the dazzle from Cleopatra's crown,
above the rondure of all desire,
be she right side up, or viewed upside down,
like the rotating centerfolds of old...
forever turning, as we swains behold.
Written by MidnightSonneteer
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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