another piece from the new book

[mevsmevsme]

uncrumple your faces

tightened like the taste

of bitter coffee

you women of the world

leave to your beds

and to your slumber

(in the days of memory’s playgrounds)

the dull concern of safety

and truly spring forth the forge

of beauty and life

and offer us your curve

and your grace

and your motherly teats

then I will suckle

from the breast of no disdain

where the milk is sweet passing

and the aftertaste is rose-hips

and salt