A single bite
Of each peach.
The conceit
Of adundance.
We langyish with
Oceans behind us
Of wreckage
Of riches
Clasping limbs
A measure of earth
The fruit we salt
Only to feel 
at 1581048330000
A single bite
Of each peach.
The conceit
Of adundance.
We langyish with
Oceans behind us
Of wreckage
Of riches
Clasping limbs
A measure of earth
The fruit we salt
Only to feel 
