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![Image for the poem red nails](/images/uploads/poemimages/89612.jpg?1436964638)
red nails
she has red nails
she drags them like scythes across my back
in the gales of our human storm
we hurry songs of the present, when the future is bleak
I don’t speak. my body invokes its own foreign language
she translates, and discovers a fiery star in obsidian carnage
with her red red mouth, she preaches that pain is pleasure.
the bites she bestows upon my shoulders are the blessings
of lecherous gods, fashioning bliss from rose-thorns, prescribing
sexual abandon as the cure for mediocrity
as I lick the aqueous substance from her skin, I imagine
Christ engaging his magic, rearranging molecules,
changing her sweat droplets into redeeming wine
should the Archangel entreat us now
we would gladly soar with him on our own wings
to the mansions of a rain forest paradise
and if I die in this dream
they can seal my coffin
with red nails
she drags them like scythes across my back
in the gales of our human storm
we hurry songs of the present, when the future is bleak
I don’t speak. my body invokes its own foreign language
she translates, and discovers a fiery star in obsidian carnage
with her red red mouth, she preaches that pain is pleasure.
the bites she bestows upon my shoulders are the blessings
of lecherous gods, fashioning bliss from rose-thorns, prescribing
sexual abandon as the cure for mediocrity
as I lick the aqueous substance from her skin, I imagine
Christ engaging his magic, rearranging molecules,
changing her sweat droplets into redeeming wine
should the Archangel entreat us now
we would gladly soar with him on our own wings
to the mansions of a rain forest paradise
and if I die in this dream
they can seal my coffin
with red nails
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