there have been dozens
I've called Sarah Janeeach a lioness
with cloudy dirt caught
in her eyes
defacing mountains
breaking the teeth
in my small mouth
your hills are more wild
crests of calloused gold arrive
in the treelines
and when the winter plays
she spins her breath
like scores of wool
tight across your thigh
my mouth and eyes are closed
I've been bowing for five months
Ethsmé
all I could do was lie
your bed
of strong grass and wildflowers
won't be so quick
to the whisper of sparks
come this fire season
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