Around your left ear there is a spear of frozen sugar and a hungry beggar with no home.

Around your right ear there is a silver pear with a lot of available room for rent inside.

Around your right eye there is a spy cloaked in hot vapours from a cry.

Around your left eye there is a brass sign of a why.

Around your tiny nose there is a tiny horse, circled and melted in your breath.

Around your lips there is a skier who slips and traces a smile with snow in a pile.

Around your breasts there are petals and medals with smiley faces and little inscriptions with encouregements from ancients for future generations.

Around you navel there is a girl named Hazel with red hair and a craddle in her pocket.

Around your hips there is a circle of pips on a string, haring through snippets of rumours like a hering through a fishing net.

And finally, around your thighs there is poet who obeys your echoes and he stays and he stays until the morning comes.

About Vlad Bunea

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