Itch
Who understands the logic
Behind the desire
That flurries up nausea and breasts' itch,
Unmet, fret frown as birthmark
What's me made-hunger raw obsession,
Through blood cord,
Sip, what's mother chew drip
Whose juice taste of gardens
Arrested in autumn scent
Voluptuous with citron, myrtle, jasmine
Alive with bees buzz.
I sense all fruit sap
As current of our blood...
The green flooding into the red.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
Added by Poetry Lover
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