Strawberries, cherries, raspberries...
they trickle
down my cage
red contours
demarcating
Adam's lost rib...
I look for Adam's
lost rib,
I search the red,
the bloody wombs
I see him standing in a corner
smoking a cigar...
Our lips meet,
like they have to,
ordained by Nature
I poke him in one of those
left out ribs...
He jolts
surprised
and sees trickling...
strawberries, cherries and raspberries
trickling
from an unknown tree
in the Summer heat,
pressed grapes
squashed fruits
in the Summer heat
like Summer Wine...
Layla Anwar, July 2nd. 2009. Nowhere. Now-Here.
