Tree Skin By Cat Cattington

Rolled folds of gloopy skin hugged the tree's joints

like a perverted old man,

sagging beyond his prime

What had he seen?

Wind between his leaves, he pants.

Watching…

Two unwavering bodies

acting out his disgusting fantasies,

his wildest scenes.

Everyone believes his serene silence,

But, I know where his flabby limbs

Have been.

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