a time for plotting revenge | 1 |
or cradling phantoms; | 2 |
you in my blue house dress | 3 |
and that deep moaning sound | 4 |
as you pulled it away-- | 5 |
| |
I was slit like cyclops and its head, | 6 |
smooth like an acorn; | 7 |
the froth on your upper lip, | 8 |
flecked with sweat as you nursed the wound | 9 |
with a steel skewer. | 10 |
| |
I wept under the pink mulch, | 11 |
ball of opium-- your thin kiss, | 12 |
the strange colour of a rhesus monkey | 13 |
screeching the maggots away | 14 |
from the abscess. | 15 |
| |
I carved a hole in your chest | 16 |
and stuffed with feathers | 17 |
when I couldn't stand your crying-- | 18 |
my young breasts | 19 |
without a darkened nipple, | 20 |
not pulled by feeding until you latched on | 21 |
like a dangling animal. | 22 |
| |
the milk-leaks still gurgle | 23 |
when I hear it cry in the night, | 24 |
and the white bones of blame | 25 |
are still warm in their wool sweater, | 26 |
but, it's time to blow | 27 |
the dwindling figures away, bill, | 28 |
| |
let the wild mother lick the film | 29 |
of our stinking a-hole regret; | 30 |
hoist you, toss you out, | 31 |
hose you down, drenched, glittering. | 32 |
| |
I'm not too sick to suckle | 33 |
you soft motherfucker. | 34 |