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PK Wakefield
Poems
Jun 2015
Untitled
each eye precise;
each eye cut with
the dull rub of
sharp blackness
(eats the skin overunder)
the pale chip of cheeks
peppered and kissed
with freckles the mute
bruise of youth and
21 years of girlness
(it smooth lips rubs over the teeth
and says,
"I really like your tattoos."
Written by
PK Wakefield
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grace
and
NV
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