Saturday, February 1, 2014

oh how easily your lips become by Patrick Wakefield

o how easily your lips become me,
the burning crimp
of urging kiss,

to depart myself
and wander amongst
the body holy and vile ridiculous winsome trivial spectacular,

(arm and thigh)
whose sweep and gait is love
made ready for tongue
to impart slowly tenacious,

whose comely hair is course tender difficulty splendrous,

whose moments are singeing exactly innumerably few
(and never enough)

who i have longed for in deepest valleys of untouching cruelty
(to cup thy whole mouth
in my mouth,
to carry it forward
thy kiss a burning standard

into inkset darkest darkness of night

that i might walk without stumbling;

that i might see           )

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