Thoughts On Two Tots

Thoughts On Two Tots

I pray for the child unkinded by the world
for he suckles a breast succulent with sour milk.
His physiognomy is emaciated for want of obese
acids.
The same tale is told by the terrace of ribs contoured
on either sides of his chest. His corneas cow inward as if of wizened age
and his nostrils precipitate mucus which he gladly
draughts in this drought. He is betrayed by his gifting; his grin She meanders her way through this gridlock on
Third Mainland bridge.
The eternal ripples of waters disguise as emissaries
of good tidings.
She gimmicks her wares perchance her luck is in the
gridlock. She’s donned in an ostentatious wear doubtless a
loving bequest from her mother.
She’s known this bridge for its quotidian carriage of
men of insouciant care
for at her tender age, she knows the world to be
draconian. She’s in ostentatious tatters but gaits like Margaret
Tatcher.



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