Poetry

Beach walls? I have 
lost the moon again, 
in red wine. 
 
The breast milk? Was 
it a sexiest remark? 
the fetus was still inside- 
 
the womb of a closed- 
circuit television. I had 
the sharpest sight 
 
in dark. You like 
the pussy. It purrs, around 
my ankles, when I 
 
talk to a pregnant future. 
Give me my croci. 
I want to make my tea purple.