"Plot"

She lies on
fresh stalks of thick
and pungent grasses;
they cover her body.
Her pink glistens.
The sun rings -
brings dew jewels;
they fall crisply
settle themselves on
impregnated flesh.
I am flickering
inside her pale stomach
I am sickened
by the smell of it.
Tasting, feeling
the sticky life-juice,
fermented and foul.
Nauseated, I promise;
I will prepare
my own plot.