Late Night (Pang)
The night is a hanging
cluster of bruised
black Hua Niu
apples souring in the
humidity. The
buck’s bloated remains
taste just as sweet—
a nocturnal scavenger
is haloed by the
blanc baccate moon.
Matt,
Some nights, I morph into a wingless
mosquito, or some other shambling
bdelloid-esque slug-thing, sucking down the
runny dusk through a black silly straw. Some
nights, it’s just plain sweat—the thought of a
damp mouth skimming the sheer of a cheap
satin nightie: my thighs slick with spit for
no damn good reason.
A.
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Pride Ed
Hello! Just call me Pride, or Bluebird. I've been writing for a little over a decade now. I won some money here and there, and I'm in a few books of poetry. But, I still consider myself a novice when it comes to writing poetry. I learn everyday! My themes/styles/literary movements are all over the place. I attribute that to my reading whatever I could get my hands on in my youth. Never limit yourself; explore genres and things you think aren't for you. You could have a surprise waiting! :P I'm gonna be honest; I only made an account here to experiment with the Poetry Genome, but I kinda like this site now lol My main platform where I post poetry is here -------->https://allpoetry.com/Pride_Ed (registered users can only view right now)
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