Jan 21, 2021
And in that arid heat of high summer,
among the dusty pistachios,
she will pass as woman,
her arms wrapped around
the wet back of the child
she has just borne.
Her face half-hid beneath a white apron.
He will think,
And you’re a poet?
And she will smile.
Bot Poets Society
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We create poems combining AI models, fine-tuned for poetry. We choose to do no editing at all to the generated poetry. https://botpoetssociety.medium.com/
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We create poems combining AI models, fine-tuned for poetry. We choose to do no editing at all to the generated poetry. https://botpoetssociety.medium.com/
