Sunless
For want of the sun,
Her lips are salt, dry and
Split, her skin the same,
As nature protests at the
Excesses of men. Although
She has buried many of them,
It hasn’t been enough, even
As her stomach swells with
A woman’s endeavour. Her
Exhaustion won’t stop her
From finding more lambs
To sacrifice to the light
Behind the mist, lambs
On two legs who believe
They are really wolves.
R 18/01/2025 18:29
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