Mock Orange
It is not the moon, I tell you.
It is these flowers
lighting the yard.I hate them.
I hate them as I hate sex,
the man's mouth
sealing my mouth, the man's
paralyzing body—and the cry that always escapes,
the low, humiliating
premise of union—In my mind tonight
I hear the question and pursuing answer
fused in one sound
that mounts and mounts and then
is split into the old selves,
the tired antagonisms. Do you see?
We were made fools of.
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.How can I rest?
How can I be content
when there is still
that odor in the world?
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/295484001-288-k72280.jpg)
ČTEŠ
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Poezie𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝙾𝙴𝙼𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙳𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚉𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙿𝙾𝙴𝙼𝚂!!! ✨𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈✨