• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 02
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when you drink
you strut like a ronin
blurting out stupid things
no lord or master
could tame the hedgerows
tufts of broom and bristle
ungroomed, imperial

your rugged insistence upon
growth, your belly extends
in layers and years
of insulation, and yet—
your thicket is yet dark and black
the follicle spice and musk
alive, and pungent—

not the anodyne sterility
of the emasculate hairless,
the length of your organ
hidden under vermillion folds
grows long as
a winter solstice shadow and
still I want you