Wicker Lips
They drop succulent, ripe and basket-bound;
with a quick turn, skill runs the juice masterful.
Yet jaded wicker lips so slash your fingers red
that with a quick turn, you drop your quirky quill
as caustic acid anesthetic muds the dusty ground.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment