In Your Arm (Edited)

Like all the whites and pinks tailing
your heir
in the aura of blooms,

like the waves,
highs and depths,
hills and holes,
ridges and gorges,
all tending to lay down
in either side of their undulations,
on the promised land of your bosoms,
between your arms
where the world is fair again
when the wings equally flutter from aeon to zero
from flapping to again melting
on your chest like perspiration
between your breasts
your bellies,
all the orifices of your existence,
till
in the puncture of your wounds
I come together
and heal
my virile bruises.