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Abmusive



How can there be so much to say
the moment one is born?
Salt-encrusted dimples shine.
Which myth will you swallow,
which myth will you share?
The erratic gaze that seizes,
malice morphing into menace.
A hidden cache of passion.
As below, so above.
My library, my harem.
Who dares quash,
rather than rouse,
my muse?

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.