The next installment in the Mocha Dreams collection, we find out who is the predator and who is the prey in this erotic quickie.
spita sweat-hog in the bedbeside me, one of her titsa flattened loaf of bread, theother like a torpedo–I wonder when the last timeshe brushed her teeth;after she spitsinto her handI cannot go through with it:I hang-out at the edge of thebeduntilshe starts to snore. FacialShe took it like a sword-swallowerin and out, thelength of it,Continue reading “Two Poems by Wayne F. Burke”
Schaeffer tells Amanda: Elsie Pym, in her early fifties,her hair coiled, a braided bun on top,took pins from her hair.The coil came undone, her hair fellto the small of her back. When I’d see her mornings in Embersshe’d take my order, her dark-rimmedglasses fastened to a silver chain.The glasses on a chain, the coiled hair,and,Continue reading “Frame Chain [Poem] by Peter Mladinic”
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