Friday, January 14, 2011

HER SHINING DULCET HAMMER

A band of frigid nuns overheard a guy:

"I'm a lucky one. I've not met a frigid woman."


He continued:

"I'm kind of living through a tension I have not known.
The feeling is almost of euphoria."


What would the movement have to say about this?
And could this man ever look at a baby and guess its age?

The nuns begin to converge,
the rapping of clogs of black leather on stone.

1 comment:

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