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PK Wakefield
Poems
Sep 2015
Untitled
your lips
(the word)
are the smoothless mastery
of the sea breaking
into silence constantly
their loud sharpness;
quaking with rush of
moon hush, the fierce
treble of wave and
night beam
–glow broken
through unmute
shoveling of
lip;
and feel (where deep)
of green darkness
and the silver plucking
of woken thread.
Written by
PK Wakefield
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