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PK Wakefield
Poems
Aug 2015
Untitled
spelt:
the uneven the
folding of into
mouths–
grass;
between tickles
and niggling
of thigh
sweated and
hot through
muscle of wine,
over the lips
breaking
a dash of
light ;
sound
(and not sound too) –––
there is a doe
a starling
and a
thick beam
of golden wheat
parts the sun
into white manifolds
of burning health:
(wither which,
into each should go
all those summers
afore the snow) .
Written by
PK Wakefield
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