Ah, yes, the swampy armpit, it’s been like
that, more or less,
Since they started digging soggy lumps of
peat from fields.
Soft shadows are exposed when you lift your
arm to bless
The lofty clouds for coming down or to raise
some heavy shield.
Yes, the armpit, once believed to be the
birthplace of those wings
We miss so much and still dream of
recovering, so softly haired
And sweetly stinking of whatever just now
we’re truly feeling
The armpit brings to our human body its
most human truth to share.
Beautiful.
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