Tumor
By Tamryn Spruill
Little Nobodies wing past
In the wee hours of morn
On way from Bardo to
Rebirth. Awaiting a host to
Implant life, orgasms galore.
With ova and seed, they’ll mate –
Gestate, and then be born.
But no being lolls here, for
My glands are immoderately worn –
Unused, yet terribly shorn.
Contact: Tamryn Spruill * Website: www.wordnerdeditorial.com
Email: info@wordnerdeditorial.com
Posted on Tuesday, April 28, 2009 at 12:00PM
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Tamryn Spruill
in Arts & Letters, Buddhism, National Poetry Month, Tamryn Spruill, Word Nerd Editorial, poetry
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Tamryn Spruill
in Arts & Letters, Buddhism, National Poetry Month, Tamryn Spruill, Word Nerd Editorial, poetry
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