Free pregnancies retreat from reason.
A soup of smoke, winds regenerated to threaten.
Intimate umbilical, intuition severed.
Bloody wetland primeval.
Duly abandoned by the flock, king-sized
Ripples host holes right through dips.
The mystical closeness of the vile.
Come death, a countdown so complacent.
And lips do their best to copy nature.
All this lack is potential use.