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> Ghost Under the Eaves
Kay
post Aug 9 07, 07:33
Post #1


Babylonian
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Group: Guest
Posts: 67
Joined: 25-April 07
Member No.: 425
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:bbnixon





She makes love to me everyday.
We become a cross. Other times, a roasting spit.
When she slips inside, I am a pink melon,
asking for a kiss to bruise the gods.

My belly feels light. I remember being eleven,
and kneeling at the feet of Our Lady of Guadalupe--
praying for breasts, for the map of a man.

Then, I found her:
soft around the mouth;
she leaves a flutter in my ribs,
a ghost under the eaves.


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