RootGarden.com

 
 

 

Your Underwear is Black

   
 

Your underwear is black —

   
 

(what else is nonexistent)

   
 

Even a wet miracle melts

   
 

and unsnaps,

   
 

as your legs lapse

   
 

to be plundered there.

   
   
   
   
 

Your underwear is gone,

   
 

peeled back from fragrant marshes

   
 

where horrible pink beauty, (dumb

   
 

spittled lack),

   
 

keens the attack

   
 

to hardening fun.

   
   
   
   
 

Gone from memory's tombs,

   
 

wake to rush the riffed meadows!

   
 

Armories, balls, lift from the brush

   
 

a cannon!

   
 

(Creamy Dannon

   
 

tempts hungry bridegrooms!)

   
   
   
   
 

Raise purply, blushing

   
 

shotgun to rage of wonder

   
 

till amber frisks the foliage

   
 

forever,

   
 

over clever

   
 

furious gushing.