Virgin Child
These pecking meals sour so, Balled in my hands Few words, Little time, Virgin, virgin child Outlay bears no flesh With your quilt wrapped so thin Your neck the high tide Your legs the looms palace And beneath your feet Rests your worshiper friendly I’d call you grim princess I’d feed you covet cords You spread yourself Like the river rose Beasts have grown to adore Virgin, virgin child These dollied hands of delicate trim My fists of a shackled noose I’ll call you meaty girl I’ll feed you fine penalties You are in new You are in newUnforgiven lust travels further than angels with torn wings Written October 5th, 2001 © on Oct 05 2001 08:55 AM PST 0 • 1
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"These pecking meals sour so, ..."