Age Of Woman

Sometimes I want to make love to you

Some kind of awful awful making love

Making love with the leaves falling in
northern Scottish churchyards

Making love while the rain is lashing a
boat in port, Clew Bay, County Mayo, Ireland

The florescent lights don’t love us
The magazines filled with lingerie models

I believe your white skin is the skinning
of my soul, the peeling of my bark

if you will

the peeling out of a purple hot rod in the empty
navy streets at night

Upon the farmer’s old stone wall, seven
centuries old
I’d like to make you cum

your ocean pebble eyes threshing stars from
the August night

the moon being her Celtic queen self of

Only God and the creatures up above know
this is now the age of woman



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