Beautifully barren


The lady decorating the night sky,

can’t you feel the body which is shy?

With all her curvy arms and lengthy fingers,

fashioning from the rest,

hey lady, a lamenting lie!

barren and dry said the sky,

bearing not a single leaf.

Cut, crumble, construct said ‘them’.


The fertile pointers; them.

Elaborating elasticity of the untied hair,

hair which terrifies the sexuality;

barren but fertile nudeness for them.

For them, the madness sorters.

Posturing her fingers, pronouncing those stars,

positioning them in the sky.

The fertile infertility of her’s standing tall,

waving in the blueness of the sky,

engulfing the enlarging sky.

Blue belonged to the sole.

The barren brown adorned the blue,

the beautifully barren tree; mother.

Mother and the adopted child!




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