Wednesday, February 9, 2022

American Sonnet 85 by Wanda Coleman

American Sonnet 85

jailer? will you still love me when i’m flit?
will you pay to hear my angst of sob and bathe in it?
jailer, the cuffs between us the cuffs so dear!
what will you do when i’m no longer accessible by key?
jailer? do you believe faint cure bests
no cure at all?
I do not know my back as well as you do
all down my crack and up it too
jailer! this contraband is such i can’t conceal
wears my lips and shreds umbilical zeal
the chancre blossom of our forced embrace
                        will never heal
jailer, why so quiet?
i can hear a politician piss on cotton 

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