Poetry Corner | Issue 13

Posted 1:54pm Sunday 28th May 2017 by Charlie O’Mannin

His wispy fingers fiddle with his penis flicking, scraping, brushing, bursting into imaginary mates with a phantom orgasm.  He clambers around his simple platform and ropes. His enclosure is the kindergarten of children looking in. Their breath pearls the glass.  I question the Read more...

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