Nonplussed. Prose.

The things I can't say out loud, I write.

Temple of Years

Phoebe’s bottle blonde
Phoebus
flies a sail from
star pointed
Andromeda dog years.

Sorghum ziggurats,
raised to a yonic
maraschino cherry
high priestess,
glisten like syrup
in the sun.

This temple of years
is a down dog pose
with a time signature
of slow.

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