VEIN MELTER, WHEN

my hair was

still cut straight

across my forehead,

you had your

vulcanized party in

my mouth.  Now

I, who learn

to let the

residue of mad

bukkake harden along

my felonious boobs,

chew on lotus

pearls and ask

you: what is

this black flower

opening in me

where late the

Vicegerent of the

Rock Orchid pushed

his cudgel?  Nightly

I petition her,