Wet Denim

June 8, 2017


Your wet smirk cuts the muck of mid-June, warm 

milk-soaked copper, through the static of Seltzer water.

My wing tips slip on cotton shards from sheets 

we took our gavels to -- Our modern law; thick 

runoff from a silkworm-sodastream.

 

In a dream you took my nose between your thighs

and inhaled running coming down Christmas morning. Only

our feet were exposed, toes velcroed to our throats, 

green lit cast iron bubblegum-blow-pop -- and then we fucked. 

 

Our sweat soaked ash making charcoal 

paste we smeared across our eyes, blinding us

like fear within white hoods. When I remember it all, 

sometimes, I try to sip it, but it’s all too heavy; 

two women wading through the tide in wet denim.

 

 

 

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload

Featured Posts

Come Over

February 28, 2017

1/1
Please reload

Recent Posts

March 25, 2019

March 18, 2019

November 28, 2017

June 8, 2017

May 9, 2017

April 24, 2017

April 17, 2017

April 4, 2017

Please reload

Archive