Tags
fellatio, iron booties, knits from your pubes, little fish, lo-speed, poem, Poetry, silent octane, skyclad, sonnet
Little fish, we grew up, I no longer
fit in your mouth on the first drop lo-speed
quivered pillowed my head to the center
a dot obscene puffing sea smoke like weed
burning a girl surfer’s kingdom skyclad
in the call coiled blood delight chilled down rain
pray a storm little fish little comrade
I miss your lips swollen silent octane
burning so much burns roots, harbors, black kelp
plucked, knits from your pubes. It’s darn criminal
the way you’ve let yourself go I’m slogging
into iron booties, chains, weights to drop
through the depths to you. Hold me kiss my skull
swallow me you used to without gagging.
