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Ed Tullett
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Oxblood
In oxblood on my coat
The plenty on the side
Spill awnings, stay afloat
The cavernous abide
The blurring of your throat
Still caving half your eyes
An aviary in notes
A keeling in your thighs
That evening I was prone
Lost sycophantic pride
Appealing to your bones
A reeling in your side
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The canter to atone
The canter to atone
A fawning by design
But via alone
And ultimate resign
Ivory along
Suscitated tongue
I had palms that sung
I had palms that stung
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