Sometimes we all make faults;
double-exposed breast,
past lover in my father's portrait.
Her miniscule nipple looks clenched in his mouth;
his gaze makes something in me run,
small hat strikes refurnished jaw.
Oh so innapropriate - she looks obliged,
while he stays still!
Sometimes we all make faults;
clenching fists of fury with eyes full of sticky wax,
tasting honey-like.
Sometimes we all make honey-like, beautiful children;
stuff their intestines
with what we can not chew.
Oh but how they cry, fresh wombs - car bomb,
daily routines.
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