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PK Wakefield
Poems
Nov 2015
Untitled
eating you out in the back seat of my car
your strum stinging
from where your voice
is quickly singing
i pluck and seem
– i reach and touch
– i, still and clean,
finger the itch stitching
of your corded and
dasmer throat .
i hurt with
knees to
garble an' streak;
to make in mouth
(where all sound i' meek)
my fingers
(as deep
in your throat)
as you can keep .
Written by
PK Wakefield
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