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Periaktoi Writing Post

Volume 51
Issue 1

Single Visual Art Post

  • Poetry
Budding May
Elliot Brakebill
Budding May

I wish I missed you, Budding May.

Pink roses, red toes in Chardonnay.

A hot soft summer afternoon;

your pretty baby poses

throws them up to the moon,

and I'll miss you.

I will miss you.

Sing to me, oh muse.

Them sea nymphs are gonna sing you to sleep

wearing wet lace, soft faced in rose bud wreaths.

The heroines of ocean dreams in spring

unwrap their bodies in blue and sink.

Sing to me, oh muse.

I feel like you've stopped loving mebabe,

is that true?

Please assure me I'm crazy.

That old dusk fades,

please, my lovely,

please tell me you doif

you'll let me.

I don't know what's on your mind.

I don't know what's on your mind,

but I hope there are green fields

and flowers where you walk.