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Pollinating Gender

Decapitation
            He was connected by dots
            And fertile once,
Once watered by the herbivore

                            I think that she has wisdom
Her fever has peppered me with pronounced lust
And my christened home is baited,
                                Breath of honour

She leaves me in the salty soil
                              And solidifies her presence as a
Perfect seed and splotches of patronage
The stem instructs me to thrust my pods

                                      In her elastic direction.

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