A satyr pulling a nymph on his lap
and his cock, impaling
her gracious form yet being
lost in her, every movement made
to her growing rhythm,
and he, in his defining lust,
giving, diminishing
into her pleasure. In
the end it won't be her
who is a laurel tree,
but he a withered stump
out of which to carve
something for her lonely hours.
22.11.-17.12.2025
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