MAČ - Gerda Stevenson

Volný čas
Nessie The name you chose masks your fear; you paint my monster head so small – pea-brain perched on a silly neck – and give me a round, wee wifie’s belly. The real me strikes terror in your heart: my mind broad as all your kyles, its levels layered as the Cairngorms. My paps slope with the grace of Jura, their nipples bright as fresh water pearls, sleek hips fit for tender cargo. I carry all our stories, from long before the Romans named the Picts, and I’ll elude your sonar probes and camera clicks – I’ll only rise when you can see beyond the surface, fathoms deep.