Jean Toomer

(26 December 1894 – 30 March 1967 / Washington D.C.)

Her Lips Are Copper Wire - Poem by Jean Toomer

whisper of yellow globes
gleaming on lamp-posts that sway
like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog

and let your breath be moist against me
like bright beads on yellow globes

telephone the power-house
that the main wires are insulate

(her words play softly up and down
dewy corridors of billboards)

then with your tongue remove the tape
and press your lips to mine
till they are incandescent


Comments about Her Lips Are Copper Wire by Jean Toomer

  • Freshman - 520 Points Maya Hanson (4/5/2014 2:55:00 PM)

    Beautiful! ! ! I love the flow of the title and words, good job (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • Rookie - 381 Points Patti Masterman (4/4/2012 7:32:00 PM)

    Woww, smoking..! glad I had my insulated pliers handy :) (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: fog, power, house



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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