At my Breast
Pan Apple Pancakes
There are few things more evocative of winter than the smell of maple syrup and pancakes. Try this apple variation to make warm, wintery memories.
At my Breast
His hair is a velvet phrase
A brown nap on his round head,
he drinks
and is drunk in my arms.
My nipple like the nib of the pen
writes a poem inside him.
His hand
rests in my palm; a tiny starfish
brought to the shore of my skin.
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