Five Poems
by
Wanda Coleman
MEN LIPS
th ey smell of booze and come swaggering thru a barroom door
pressing eagerly for release-a pot to piss in
coughing up th e spit of resentment. tight lines of i-love-yous
clipped short. curl ed under pressure
loose and slipping easy over. wet warm and juice flowing'
fl avor of mint
musty with mu sk-heady and eager to please
accep tan ce the tongu e which finds its way between tight thighs
stretch ed from one pol e to the next, vomiting
up word-politics and littl e green things with knives
li ckin g down around my question
a nervous lapping tell s me he wants out
hi s on mine sucking inward . a palate formed of prison bars
h e tastes like damp and unfamiliar alleys
