Cunnilingus
| filed under: Poem, Poets, Poetry, Poet, Poems
©1993 Chris Abraham
Cunnilingus
I complain of your smell, like phlegm,
and the humid cough from between lips,
but I reek like corpse, socks, and it
all collects between my rubbing thighs.
Oh yes—I am a man—I am allowed
to exude like the backfire of a Packard
or the great green billows of some stout
Cuban stogie rolled tight by hand.