This Planet Is a Grave

This planet is a grave.
The inveigled day a wrinkled band-aid
which, after a few bruised hours,

rubs off the wild strawberry patch
of your wound,
fading beneath the green
foam of the surf.

What’s there to realize, Milton? The surface
of Hell is a sizzling cunt and cold
to the brittle touch.

 
1
Kudos
 
1
Kudos

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FITZGERALD

Just a few months after Cathy Earnshaw kindly drove Heathcliff ‘mad- ly off,’ begging him to ‘just go’ and ‘rob a gold mine!,’ Heathcliff returns years in advance–not simply as a thief or some pale white gypsy chewing the leathery meat... Continue →