When Trident Yawns

by grimbeau


twinkling casually on

the blackened ovaries:

bleck and wite unite

and fight in equaliser dreams;

might have beens, should have beens,

mass in your strangulated,

nutritionless mind,

in your dreams like somewhere safe,

nuzzling down,

cuddling up in green mossy pot,

snug as a bug in a rug.