There.
It curls itself
around like dry milk.
Aeolus breathes
the desert unto
Pastoral gold; a
swollen nipple
No tears for lush
stalks of women,
even as they dance
under sterile
suns.
‘Fields’ by Alysha L Scott
‘Fields’
There.
It curls itself
around like dry milk.
Aeolus breathes
the desert unto
Pastoral gold; a
swollen nipple
No tears for lush
stalks of women,
even as they dance
under sterile
suns.
‘Fields’ by Alysha L Scott
