Winsome Woe
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Poem
I do lament
he does not call
I am bereft
Sagacious Moon
I am Withal
I cast a Spell
and he shall Fall
oh Tallest, Tall, of Tall there be
take this and that
and then come lay here avec me
my thighs are soft and tender dear
your cheek, may it rest right here
no, I mean there….I….
Oh handsome, if ever handsome made
wherewithal, I am your slave!
Oh damn the stars and moon so bright
it is the Sun I orbit at night
that he should smile upon me still
and make me quiver with his manly…
Where it be that man is so
ever may it be my woe,
for oft a Love thusly savage
may make me
Oh…
Oh,
No!
No!
more by JULSEY DAHLING
photograph by Anna Demianenko
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