covered

through shivers and daisies
and bikini line woes
the bright leaves are upon her
as she rests before the snow
lying atop of 8 seasons of zines
the curves of their covers
caress her fine lines
he walks in poses around her
as she giggles inside
her sterness above him
like pulling strings of a mime
he hangs all about
with candle in mouth
his birthday suit needy
of her dry cleaning eyes
he hums her a tune
mumbled through candle wax mouth
and kneels right above her
to feel the wind from her blow
the room is now dark
carbon fills the air
and the zines stick to her body
like an aching old year