A woman sips on a glass of red wine
as the man across from her tells a joke,
it tickles her tummy, her tits, divine,
jiggle this way and that as her lips soak
in the blood of grapes fermented for years
in cask and bottle, in the air around
them and in their clothes and cosmetics, tears
of hazardous chemical waste abound,
from the blood of grapes to the blood in your
veins and arteries a swirling eddy
of chemicals exists, in every pore
of your skin the chemicals are ready
to kill and disrupt your metabolic
system, I'm not being hyperbolic.
"Breasts" by Kenneth Larot Yamat
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