Fauna
Steak
she likes bleeding.
Our tablecloths are
stained with lust.
In first dusk
we gel into
a cool, efficient,
preparatory machine.
Prizes are produced:
applauded: torn.
Her eyes
faintly incandesce
as her teeth meet.
Wife.
Flora
Porphyria,
night flower,
in dark unfolds
her stark, electric
bloom. Eyes
obsidian refract
the chilled and shaded
commerce of her soul.
Love me. Love me... .
Famished tendrils
seek the heart:
encircle: twist:
consume. Fed,
she closes, withered.
Beautiful.
2 comments:
These are super, as always! :) I like this tandem approach ... two voices to things we normally throw together so easily.
I agree Shameless, but the second one stands out for me.
I also love the picture - you choose well, Mr Carver.
Post a Comment