Flora Dulcissima

Dora Dulcamara

She speaks in scent
And from her mouth
Waft odours of
The spice-drunk south.

Her lips are sweet
And hummingbirds
Encluster there
To sip her words.

Her breasts are blooms,
Her nipples eyes
That nectar weep
For butterflies.

Her feet may tread
The salted earth,
Each pace provoke
A flower's birth.

And golden sun
That glowers down
Will weave her head
A petalled crown.

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