Toothpick
Picking with the toothpick at the ending of my meats, at the prolonged ending of my bones from hands and feet, nipping and licking at the dried sticky filth that sticks to my teeth when I lick with one lick too many and I bite, warmly at first, the inside of my mouth, kicking the leftovers out, guiding them downtown.
Ad
Poetry Books 50% Off
Bestselling collections from top poets
Shop Now β
