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Sydney Whitby

anthropologist

Suns and other muses

You took a piece of Sun
and shined it to my cavities
I took your wretched hand
and placed it over
my depravity

The water in me hot
burned away the writhing virus
the steam stirs up and over
I stab the bloody
tyrant

The dawn is finally here
I take it
kiss it ā€”
my possession
I eat it, chew it, swallow
vomit all of my confession

A piece of that Great Star
sits lodged between my cavities
you left it there to shine
to burn ā€” up all
of my depravity

I cannot walk at all
my gait is cleaved
(and bleeding)
Torn and wrinkled now
the birds flock to the feeding

The sweet smell of the Sun
infused now in my running blood
drips sticky down your temple
head to mine
hand stops the flood

Iā€™m broken, free, half-dead
Alive.
The Sun just keeps on rising
you placed it there
internally
each day, my sins baptizing

The virus singed and gone
the chalky teeth and pasty skin
aglow
sweaty, spent, deranged
and yet the Sun burns on
more hope to sew

it screams the truth aloud
the Sun stuck in my cavities
it screams of you, too
your wretched kiss on my
depravity.

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