Michelle Pullen

Imagine your whole society is stolen away to mars. Everything is alien. You are told not to cuddle your children, for them not to embrace family.

So life is a loaf of bread.
Serve it to me on a platter and I shall sit and devour it.
I will spread butter and honey upon it, I shall savor every mouthful.
I will be a gluttonous fool.

Held calm between my arms.
Gentle water caressing, stillness of stone, as a lover moulds a breast.

Why do the butterflies dance around all that is in between?