19 April 2010


This poem is obvious in its sexiness.

I like to think of it as actually being about peeling an orange.

Infix 4/19

Pebbled skin, waxen and orange
The brown spot, softer
press fingers in, entering.

Sexual orange?

Pulling pith, dry cotton space
between lips
juice, pulpy parts, on tongue.

The tearing of fingers
into soft skin, pressing.
Rind like metal, like rubbing.

Not so sexual, sensual?
A rusty serration on my thumb.

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