Getting nailed in church and all I had on were satin panties.

Kiss me till I lose my breath and die.

Poetry because I'm silly and lost at the ocean. Forgot how to swim.

Call me dragon, Paul. I have scales in my eyes. Smoke rings in my line of vision.

Walahi. I swear my way through a thousand Mary's and midsommers that I thou thine thee dost.

Tied to tether with a smoke rope from our mouths.

Encase greens within the pages of the bard.

I am carried to a place where

I dream of painless high- a horned pig says my name.

Where do poets go when they die?

For the lord our god is a jealous god.

Homa Ejims ©