a rust a rose
a must bare mess;
a loam a clump
to eat and drag
drunk.
a warm eye
a bitter lather over-boiling;
a weight a water
soaking red right
through the gills.
an ear instead
of a fish for
my lover;
barbed hook in
the finger of
my backseat
brother.
Terri Ann Quan Sing is a writer living and working in Naarm. You can find her on twitter here.