Poetry as Socio-proctology
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Monday, 18 July 2016
This Shuka & that Turk Shirazi
The Turk has small white fists- soft like the wings of a swan
Her kisses peck like a parrot- tho' her eyes dim the Morn
Vyasa's tear ripened fruit- yours from the start
Break my Hindu rib cage- rage, black, in my heart.
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