for Wick
my head lies in the soft soil
of your skin, the canopies of our leg hair forestry
sway as our knees rub together like kindling
you call my middle & pointer fingers little men
as they run up your patch of happy trail
& shrieks from the tickle fountain from your lips
pooling w/ spit, I kiss you w/ a tangerine slice
between my teeth as you squeeze the mountains
of my hips
Poem by Halsey Hyer
Halsey Hyer is currently earning their MFA from Florida International University. They are an Associate Editor for the Pittsburgh Poetry Journal, member and mentor of the Madwomen in the Attic writing workshops, and collective member of The Big Idea Bookstore. Their work has been featured or in Voices From the Attic XXV, The Blue Nib, and Show Us Your Papers Anthology, and elsewhere.