Burial
| filed under: Poem, Poets, Poetry, Poet, Poems
©1994 Chris Abraham
Burial
Upon the low grass I kneel and feel
clammy earth through pressed leaf.
It is the terra firma, the grave
that exudes, like the pussy, its
Playfulness. The stone clitoris
and the hairy grass and the
labia pressed over in prayer
And still I pray and ask to
be vacuumed in to feel
Slippery—like a drop on the tongue.