The flower struck the flesh of her ass
And just like it
The bud was firm and juicy
Holding up
To the repeated lashings.
The stem and thorns caused her white skin to rise
In a narrow criss-cross relief
Welted firm
And swollen
Sometimes delivering blood
Seeping from the center
Of the dune.
Before the crimson
Amounted to anything more than a trickle
He dragged his tongue across her wounds
Pulling at the poison
As she began to bloom.
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