-
How not to imagine the tumors ripening beneath his skin, flesh I have kissed, stroked with my fingertips, pressed my belly and breasts against, some nights so hard I thought I could enter him, open his back at the spine like a door or a curtain and slip in like a small fish between his ribs, nudge the coral of his brains with my lips, brushing over the blue coil of his bowels with the fluted silk of my tail.
Related Authors
-
Bob Hicok Poet -
Galway Kinnell Poet -
Diana Abu-Jaber Author -
Kim Addonizio Poet -
Tony Hoagland Poet -
Mark Doty Poet -
Alicia Ostriker Poet -
Chase Twichell Poet -
Li-Young Lee Poet -
Marie Howe Poet -
Matthew Dickman Poet -
Philip Levine Poet -
Mark Strand Poet -
Tess Gallagher Poet -
Jane Hirshfield Poet -
W. S. Merwin Poet -
Sharon Olds Poet -
Ellen Bass Poet -
Louise Glück Poet -
Robert Pinsky Poet