Saturday, May 24, 2014


It is impossible to know the edges of it
this aureole
A small mismanaging of syllables
turns something anatomical into
the aura of the holiest
This halo of faint light
surrounding my nipple
an island bleeding out into an irregular sea
with satellite islands
cast out into the waves
little dark spots of crusted colour
expelled from the mainland.
Who would live on these age spots?
These specs abandoned by the whole
I would live on them
with a little boat
in summer
catching fish
from the ocean
of a luminous breast.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Krissy

    Just left a comment on Furious Vagina....I love these breast poems...

    the breasts of life
    were meant to share

    I've written many poems about what breasts say to me/ or evoke in me, they usually smile at me even when their owner frowns, and I imbue them with a good will that, no matter how hardened or disappointed or numbed out is the person it that bears them, cannot be entirely eliminated, breasts of hope and glory:

    How many times have I seen
    a women from behind
    and prayed that when she turned
    it would be to reveal large breasts
    not that I believed
    I’d ever get to suckle them
    but just for the sake
    of a generally abundant world

    Immanuel Suttner