Hip spooling
Wrapped, in whiskers
In whiny moan, in
Earthy, deep tone.
Moistened smile
Pondering the Zoom
And
The invasion of
Your space.
Distracted.
Bubble, magnetized
Dreamt in daylight
And though,
Processes hurl,
I focus there
An inch below your nose
Where sound eschews
Action.
And
Tongues, might
Taste.
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