Your quivering carnation flesh resents
the burnt sienna sack in which it’s clothed.
Free yourself from those ashen pigments.
Your body is not chattel to be loathed.
***
From Among the Consonants in The Skin of Things
Poetry by George Lang
Poetry by George Lang
Your quivering carnation flesh resents
the burnt sienna sack in which it’s clothed.
Free yourself from those ashen pigments.
Your body is not chattel to be loathed.
***
From Among the Consonants in The Skin of Things