Temple Cone-I
Orchard
All night, the gambrels creaked
and the orchard turned to dew.
Sugarbrains, she whispered
through the swaddling darkness,
Why do only horses have fetlocks?
He grabbed her fetlock in horseplay,
brushed back blond creeks
from her eyes so he could see
her eyes go through him like nails,
her look sullen, her desire aplenty.
Nestling close as roof to rafter,
a crop of hungers in-between,
they sought to true their lyric
bodies like air in a bevel,
so when he slipped her the tongue,
she slipped him the grammar.
All night, the gambrels creaked
and the orchard turned to dew.
Sugarbrains, she whispered
through the swaddling darkness,
Why do only horses have fetlocks?
He grabbed her fetlock in horseplay,
brushed back blond creeks
from her eyes so he could see
her eyes go through him like nails,
her look sullen, her desire aplenty.
Nestling close as roof to rafter,
a crop of hungers in-between,
they sought to true their lyric
bodies like air in a bevel,
so when he slipped her the tongue,
she slipped him the grammar.