‘To stand’
To stand in sharp contrast
with the economy of your clones
the austerity of your ocular orbits
your Slavonic cheeks bones
clued-up with resentment.
My dear friend, take no offence.
A rose selects all human actions.
There’s no God’s providence.
My hours snap and pass by
My stomach is swollen
compared to my deficient breath.
All the complexity of your thoughts has gone,
reduced – like this - to a single oppositional tension
between your mouth and my breasts.
Between my private utility and your collective good,
flanked by the word I love you
where all my ambitions
quiver and all my hopes dissolve.
Sinking.
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