Wet Man

I will make my own man
I will stitch together a coat of drunk minks
until he my man is drunk in his collar
and wearing a sharp biting harness my man
is drunk with his nose in his collar

I want to wear gold-stick appendages
Partner my man lend me your saber-tooth legs
your big sleeve we should have children
we should dress these children in this single pair
of fishnets we will see to it these fishnets
kick their legs in a Georgia river

my man will take a handful of my nipple
he my man will cheers to cocoa butter
all ten fingers will see to it
and the dandelion oil he my man
my man has ten seeing fingers
his ten dandelion fingers
will see to my nipple

and nothing is embarrassing
he will snore like a man
who is asleep and happy
if I want to wear him I wake him
I will let myself in as he yawns
river my main man
rivers are drooling tongues

the South is wet sweet vinegar
river let us spell each other’s names
with the least amount of letters
just like that and nothing else until a poem
I wish I had a blind tongue
I wish I was stupid and naive in the mouth
I wish I had a blind tongue

Read on . . .

Another Decade, Another Mouth,” a poem by Carlina Duan

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