W.B. Keckler
Some Flowers
fur
petals, pith
on palmboy-soft
skin
smeared
with starry gelhot pink
feather-tongued
starfish
masturbatingLook here
occult
unzippered
handshake
lanolinedoh that tarantula crawling for
baby-skin ear’s
downy
listeningnext to innocence
a blood-turgid tongue
arches
to creme
lips pursedfuschia one licking
salt & cocaine
Thursday-
bingerthen the inevitable
sexual elegy’s
purple moan
weeps
barebackEros-in-the-saddle
tigrish
hunger
delicately
bruised
satisfactionare these only flowers?
spreading
desireor a disease
called efflorescence
gothteen-pierced-uncut
boygirl licking starpoint tears
off labiaworld we believe
because
it weeps open