McKinley Johnson

Drool Steeped’n

Drool steeped’n sweet peach syrup catching lip, I break 
the pond surface just in time to see you kiss-
scatter dandelion white at me from the shore, pluck 
honeysuckle, leave ‘em spit-drenched 
on the gravel by your bare feet, gold’n dirty 
from tree-line rot, rock-sand gray, and above, 
at your ankle, a white scar rock-crag creeks 
to your calf’n up past where your hip folds.

Bones two-step around your wrist 
as you turn the radio knob, 
crackle-cough-cacophony leaps’n lunges in a language or 
two; toned magenta jewel red sunglasses, gold-topped frames 
frame your face. You giggle, smirk at me, 
then you jerk the wheel’n we pull off the road; skid-hop 
over roots’n skip-stop under tree shade just as you slide 
over the center console ‘cause we can’t wait.

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McKinley Johnson (he/him) is a poet from the foothills of Appalachia. He is the Assistant Poetry Editor of phoebe, a Teaching Fellow for Poetry Alive!, and an editorial reader for Poetry Daily. His work is published or forthcoming in The Shore, West Trade Review, South Carolina Review, and elsewhere.