My first poem of the New Year.
A Womb with a View
Will I whistle when I walk
give off a hum as breezes
cross the hollow drum where
parts will be departed?
Can I shun the ordinary
everyday handbag I carry
and stash my cash where
now my organs play?
I only ask to delay choosing
the day you get to
run with scissors through
my personal playground
Finally, how long will I
have to pretend I…
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