When Limbs Are Prized


When limbs are prized

trace her blood line

to her naked wound.

Feast upon the milk

of human kindness

as you speak proudly

in the hills and valleys.

Draw upon the swan’s neck

the length of her depth.

Feel the swell of the tide

rising with you the endless

being of conjoined solitude.

When limbs are prized

let her play loud

on man’s cornucopia.

Make the chilled night roar

in the silence of your triumph.

Lace your loins on long

layered sheets of darkened white

and scorch the frigid night

with the branding heat of you

and wear the foundry sweat

like skin on firm soft sand

kissed by rolling waves of

a rising swell and tide

when limbs are prized.


Rochester, 2016


Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15 or

at https://www.facebook.com/Malek-Montag-Author;



Image from: http://www.artmajeur.com/files/stock-fine-art/images/artworks/650×650/8479444_4275-copy.jpg


About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on Niume.com.
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