by Anonymous

Milk gliding down your throat
like powdered pearls
delicate excrement ground
smooth and textureless
thick, filling, a plastic glove
that tastes of the moon
that final drop in a glass
Circling around the bottom
Spreading when tilted all
over the surface, waxing to
a crescent and then a full
moon, gravity calling and
the misty blue fading
and waning, from the edges
a translucent shade
holographic white,
a shadow of light, bright
echoes of creamy, watery
Animal substance.