Upon my Puberty

That a tapestry may also be the beloved bowel and pee of a woman in recovery.

Upon my puberty you ate anchovies,

Your pee was my first taste of wine and joy.

Your sun dress moved with long amber waves of your hair.

The labor of your anal cavity taught me cause and effect.

You spread your anus courageously,

and promised you would s**t first into my mouth,

then to fill my tits, to show me how I do not need,

your bowel is in me and fills my pancreas.

To live each moment in both the wholesomeness,

and protection of your a*s a muse that is pungent

with secretions of vehemence. You s**t as animals love in a way of war.

You disciplined me this way,

not to fear this or that,

but that you shall s**t and pee.

I observe the outdoors at great length, and distance.

You have s**t auburn meadows with gleaming pee in me to learn to trail.

You have s**t a woman's reason in my pelvis,

and guided me with pools of you excretions as Earthen reflections.

To be me is to be in service of your sacramental releasing.

While to live again,

would be to live the s**t you expul upon my tongue.

To live with thirst for your pissing in me, 

as my thirst is quenched.

We are you,  ephemeral that you are of fertilized egg,

with grains of feces in your abdomen that are many passages,

and voice of your acceptance, and reception of my venal life and dying.