Skin the meat, shatter stones,
Scorch our shadows, crack my bones.
Suns and thunder - grip me tightly!
Squeeze me harder, scream so brightly. 
Sweat is mud, the wounds are holes, 
At the pig’s squeal, we lose our souls:
Shed your blood, sell its pearls
To adorn my hair as it unfurls.
New flames pulse; they glow a-gold; 
Beseech the moon to never grow cold.
Whilst my mate sings, madly enthralled,
Praising the muck through which she crawled.

© 2020 by Genevieve D. Franco. All rights reserved.

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