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Peace and Other Stories

Fragments of a Formerly Active Sex Life

Indian Statue #2
by Julian X  /  poetry  /  29 Apr 2008

The light has this way of settling on her breasts

as the sun dawns upon the temple

and she closes her eyes.


The woman beneath her stretches out her hand,

a finger disappearing deep within the folds.

Her breasts dangle towards her face,

plump and round like they could give birth to all the Earth.


A man stands over her, hovering forever half-in, half-out,

eternally erect, eternally with his face of soft bliss

as he leans against the temple wall

and the breasts beneath him so nearly touch his knees.


On his right, anotherís breasts catch the whole

of the morning light, melting them down year by year

like a trickle of water against mountains.

Her radiant pussy, so delicately carved,

so plump that I know it breathes,

takes in all the light can offer.

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This body I give, she says,
I returned from the wars sixteen years ago
femme sans assez díespace
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Death raped her,
Blind men still care for their womenís beauty.
I've never come as hard as when
Indian Statue #2