patrick wakefield · Jan 5, 2012
Summer foolish

Summer foolish
  your stupidest fists
         mangle in wet
                       girls
                      by the
                       lake rifled
                      by the
                    f
                   i
                    ng
               e r s
                 roughgently
             of hefty
                lush
              godsighs
                                        Sum
                                           mer purring
                                                         muscles
                                                     you bulge
                                                          triceps
                                                               ladling
                                                             the kissed
                                                            lovely forms
                                                          of sungirls
                                                                     by the golden
                                                                  hewing untrembling
                                                               husk of laughing days you
                                                                                                                  unquaver
                                                                                                                     steadily increasing
                                                                                                                           on bodies
                                                                                                                                    daftest
                                                                                                                                 some stinging redness
                                                                                                                    and
                                                                                                     in the soft
                                                                                                  belly of your nights
                                                                                                i'll stand by open drinking
                                                                                                  seawind windows
                                                                                               and i'll rub
                                                                                                       into the back
                                                                                                    (the startled raw back)
                                                                                                   of my silly girl
                                                                                                 some aloe
                                                                                                                   and i'll kiss
                                                                                                                  what random
                                                                                                                 hairs sprout
                                                                                                                  from the ivory
                                                                                                                 pasture
                                                                                                                         of her spontaneous
                                                                                                                       nape

 
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