Tantrum of the Fawn

The mold was animal of animal
a minute old, the child a curious lavender
red inside the color of the host

From a blue swamp came to age
dreamed of laying hands to knaves
so lion lay
panting in the shade of brush
sleeping off the heat to fuck

Time passed, her ants are curious to march
the busy fingers on a locket
trace each hump on the frown
at the top of the heart

Saw life as a head about to be crowned
or the head about to crown

The tantrum of the fawn
beg the meadow stay inside me now

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