MUSHROOM HILLS

Everything about her blushed, 
bruised like a rosebud 
just-morphing after finger-oils; 

the Magnolia of the skin,
& in a dash to quicken-think
-sand-sink my glancing-gash 

that may’ve appeared for a 
brief stint on my forehead like 
a stigmata,—my eyes slipped 

southward towards the mushroom 
hills of her heaving bosom
& even her cleavage-top blushed!