You and I are fucking
but we are not fertilizing eggs still
I wait at frosted windows during snowstorms
and warm up pot roasts (with my faggot ass)
that tasted better at six-fifteen when you should
have walked through the door and stomped grey slush
from your foots and said It’s cold out there
while touching my mouth with your lips do you see how cold my mouth is
our faces are frozen together.
She discovered lies, an asp wrapped around her marriage.
She stole an internet love look.
She met two black strangers in a desolate parking lot.
She fucked them both, hidden behind rusted leaves.
She came home, woke her husband’s left-alone flaxen baby girl.
(the infant had slid out of her seven months ago like a green turd)
She fed the brat’s sniveling pink mouth with milk from her soiled sticky breast.
She drew gravel from her nostrils and spat on the boiling beef stew prepared for her spouse.
She served his
We ran low.
While smoking over Murt’s house
so we sent him out for more but he was cut down
By five pieces of lead spinning quickly I stepped over
his staring eye after blood running down the street to trap
the fleeing gunman to beg him please sell me two more.
Maria saved her own and her three beige children’s
yellow project piss in large Hellmann’s jars,
and threw it out of her neat third floor apartment window
at the crack head bitches she heard
loudly sucking dick at all hours of the night.
Crows are in late autumn trees
and you are gone, Empress.
I am broken in the places
you have touched me.
The chain around my neck
is your heavy hands and they are cold now,
smoke leaves my mouth.
My heart beat is a red apple.
I perch on stiff chairs a marionette, unused,
with tattered ropes; freed from your loud party.
I am a smoky jazz trio sadly playing.
I am dark in drunken saloons
with no money for more wine.
a paper cut,
