My teacup is empty
The pavement is dampened.
Their veins are flattened
against it
is cold.
And it is more than the dank and nip of fall
It forebodes, dark in a sense impure
My cower precedes my will to be frightened
I am already trembling
Mad wind is an imp-carried song
Rain hits the pane like angry hail, heaven’s to cast
The glass is chilled against my palm
Vulgarity takes outside my window
left over from night’s meal
In dawn’s breaking,
with thunder grouses damning morning voices,
The birds don’t sing.
I can, too, whistle.
I’ve done it a few times if my lips made the right “o”
and the wind was fair.
But can you sing a tune, silly girl?
And her tongue strained to make a little lamb cry.
The kind as white as snow.
And every note she failed first try.
And second.
And third.
The tenth time, as well.
He rang a nice long complex song through his teeth.
A whistle through the gritted.
Spot on and speckless.
It’s because you’re a leprechaun
And your feeble talent is the phony gold.
Mary smells jealousy.
Mumbling murderer,
keep your milkstache from licking the butt of your nose.
Wipe it clean.
It’s as bad as red hands
(the stain of the guilty).
You speak with your mouth full, you wicked dupe.
Your malevolent plots bubble in the white in your cup.
I filled it.
And placed a fix of poison.
Dropped a skull-marked phial, glass and all,
into your liquid meal.
And I said
He who I serve drink
is villain
He whom I lay a kiss upon is the one
fit for death.
like little soft-haired felines with spidery long legs in a tangle
miao
the undersides of dresses show when precious monsters wrangle
how
do you suppose they’ll grow, you know, with mothers in disgraces
or
the little curious boys atop door steps, snot strong still on their faces
for
one sock endearing scrunches low, her other stretches tight
and
her oxfords scuffed, and french braid roughed, and dimples plain in sight
sand
is in the wicker bag because it slipped her mind to dump it out
when
she last went to meet hot shores and sunsets there’s the pout
then
like i said would show when fumed Father gave his scolding
loud
and buds of tears race down her face because he’s never holding
proud
still dolls lose heads, with tea time near, stuffed toys are tape-bound, hung
sit
she does across her unmade bed and twirls a lolli in the cup of her tongue
it
won’t do any good to keep her back here kitty kitty kitten cat
quite
abusing of her hex her charms a bitch, scrape tickle that
is meaner than her bite.
and what happens if oxygen doesn’t flow to the mask?
shall black constrict over my eyes before the infamous white flash
light flash
life flashes before
me?
pass out?
never–
but today, in row 20 seat B, i
might does no man any good
what will strength do you now
falling with rain bullets
from semi-automatic storm clouds
don’t challenge mother nature
you are as weak as a pink kitten
no matter, before a fight,
how tight you fasten your
belt strapped choking my jean button
fingers fondle wooden beads
ankles wind
several times
dizzy before fall
pray before crash
sleep before flame
dream before death does us all
is my grave being dug as i scrawl?
death tiptoes near.
i hear
the creaks of the wretched floor boards.
they keep singing–in a circle–inside my head:
“this is the last night in my body.”
twinkle twinkle
black skulls and virgin mary are on my hands.
i hold them.
what sin have i commited?
diffidence sucks at the breast of death.
gnaw not, love.
you will splice open the cup and
–fear so–
nourishment will not flow freely.
a bloody pulp and tangle of thread
in its stead.
how can you bite at a forest of veins and milky poison?
but a baby cannot help but demand, poor fool,
her greed is the source of her ugly convulsions.
baby insecurity cannot yet mind her temper.
let her throw a fit, the child,
and pray that she may grow before she sputter-chokes on supper.
i let the wind turn the page to assuage his ridiculous persistence.
he’d been wanting to for some time now.
i noticed the way he flirted with the corner as i read.
the black pits of my white olives rolled.
but i let him turn it anyway.
i wanted to sprawl in the sun in a wind-less summer noon.
my coat is for when the wind bites
and i hated to have to ask her favors.
what brashness is this?
damn it.
let me read at my own pace.
alright, you may do the work of my fingertips.
Dandy can do without you all,
she says.
Lies lick the rough of her tongue.
So honest strums her apathetic heart strings.
Twanged them in perfidiousness,
as secret as it may be to Dandy.
Doped to how greatly her soul is a slave to the knife that slays them all
she can do without.
Eyes can burn even when they don’t cry.
‘Tisn’t lucid for you, Dandy, but your heart would weigh heavy should they die.
Just poise careful on the thinning limb.
The lone branch will snap
with you on your high perch,
us trailing messy crimson on the floor.
Dandy, are we all beneath you?
Are you greater than the world?
I ask for the world.
They don’t know how deep cuts the stab of your mocking.
They don’t know you mock.
Laugh louder
at them.
at us.
at me.
I don’t, darling. I spare you. Your promise isn’t quite spit-worthy.
Only almost.
I’ve worked too hard to keep the demon likes from trodding (as they will) all over me again.
I’ve grown to snap my bite means something now i’ve torn terrible holes in my jeans snagged my favorite sweater ripped tongues from the wet caves of the pompous mouthed sluts.
I’m not a doormat anymore.
See the scars that’ve whitened. Touch them. They mark battles i raged in to snatch my deserved independence
don’t you strip it from me,
Dandy, don’t you dare ruin it.
I love you.
And it frightens me.
So i can say lies lick the rough of Dandy’s dandy fibbing tongue.
Not ruthless, just wrapped in dark paper.
With your philosophy, you sink in ignorance.
Please, hold my hand.
I fold paper cranes for peace not fun
and i wasn’t fooling around when i said it.
I won’t let you drown.
you’re bleeding.
freckles catch on my stained hands,
guilty, brushed scarlet.
but it’s by your blood.
your tart, ripe blood,
fleshed with sweetness.
she douses you with sugar before she’ll bite.
should you wear a chocolate coat, he’ll enjoy your company.
i’ll take you as you are.
a dripping mess.
delectable, plain.
i like you best when you are bleeding.
