Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2012
sour girls seem like corners drawn
deeply into briefly unsmiling faces
livid with rouge, mascara, and
                                                         eyes

cut of freezing, ice and, ivy (who like
sour girls uncurl)
                                  gently in the palm

of Summer's neat soft plush and hand
not Summer's but my hand, which
draws briefly unsmiling into livid with
my lips, rouge and mascara, faces
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
427
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems