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CALLASSA

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EXTRACT

THE COSMICALLA

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Do you know what reciting poetry is?” she had asked while lifting her

head very slightly and then sinking back.

“What? Words of special inspiration …Yes?”

“No, poetry is, I mean, our poetry, is my milk. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“It is? Your explanation baffles me, but has a lactating aura

about it that literally turns me into a starving infant.”

“I apologise for laughing,” she said but carrying on doing so.

“It’s all right … I’m nursing liquid and ambrosial thoughts.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. I shall tell you then, that it is me. Yes, me!

Everything about you, my breast-fed lover with the curly hair, is ‘my’ influence.”

“I am well nourished. I feel it. Yes.”

“You should, my suckling, biting and beautiful bouncing baby boy.”

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CALLASSA

MMXXIV

Invicta Veritate