whisper of yellow globes <br />gleaming on lamp-posts that sway <br />like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog <br /> <br />and let your breath be moist against me <br />like bright beads on yellow globes <br /> <br />telephone the power-house <br />that the main wires are insulate <br /> <br />(her words play softly up and down <br />dewy corridors of billboards) <br /> <br />then with your tongue remove the tape <br />and press your lips to mine <br />till they are incandescent<br /><br />Jean Toomer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-lips-are-copper-wire/
