A toad
You're like a powerful bitch.
You have got not a mouth - a coy,
Instead of hands - steel grips.
You are not talking - you flow streams,
Have not the eyes - but seas!
And not a century - eyelids,
Under which are the weeds.
You stomped me, trampled by your voice,
Broke me again like branch,
And ripening run me up like raw,
And caught me in a hutch.
You made me sit down on a shovel,
put me - behind the stove,
Where I melt like a wadding snow
And flow with case-shot poem.
Свидетельство о публикации №119111608443