This bitch folds things cock-eyed
and leaks Saturday,
pierces her thighs with Goya,
telephones the lottery
to brag about her boyfriend’s size,
cleans the toilet
with duct tape and voodoo dolls.
This bitch drowns the block in hairless awe.
All caviar to bless my sheets,
worms dictate her love letter,
if you’re going to be morbid
do it in half-assed shudders,
she says.
The puppets copulate in terror,
bleach of names come spilling cryptic,
I said that, I said that,
gossip politely about the holocaust
running down my lips at 4 AM.
Sean Kilpatrick
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/small-crush/
