Poem By Kiona Pearson
'o darling Angelou, how I've cherished thee, for such a swell of vestige wing along a back as fallen angel's envy, so tender and slick, so flush'd with your agony. Would'st he take me as rapaciously? or dost thou only suffer for the touch of man? I beg, I beg, tho yet still there spread, he'll ever lay.