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for Eileen

When wasn't it ever her?
As far as prurient reverie
goes, you had always
ached tenderly
in the indignity
of being mounted.

The view before
and above you
is of a terrible angel.

She has no sword,
but seeks to avenge
the purity of the cave.

She is at her loveliest.

© Alfred A. Yuson

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First Breakfast

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