Russian men

image from tuttart


Dough eyes
On lambrini pink
Speaks in sleuths
Where clusters think
She likes the Russians
The gargle of words
Their throaty promise
Their husky verbs
And as the wet
Pools from the claw
The tomb
It pulses
For fairy kings,
The ogre places
Tree stump link
But lately she likes Russian men
The Cubans cried
Their storm without
She was a tooth
Without a mouth
The taste bud of succulent yesterdays
The puss of
The Wiseman promise
Take me to that Eden bridge
Where no one crosses
And I the crow
Have ink on skin
With beagle knows
Request the life
The dead men worship
Then I will tell you
I like Russian men.