“Is She More Beautiful Than Me?”


Belle’s pupil transfixed on a pockmark
Eye-level to a strain of acne
Begotten by poor hygiene. “Why are
My veins moving like inch worms?”
She questioned. Oh. What a beautiful surrender

When the trees have voices

When God is yr neighbor
Inviting you to cookouts
On Memorial Day.

Belle arranged her legs
Until they formed
A Figure-8 pattern. She peered
Through the gap
Between her thigh & calf muscle,
“It’s a window.”
She claimed.

What stares back
At the empty face,
Struggling to decipher
A telephone pole
From a dildo. What’s fucking
Up the phone lines
Is fucking her wholly.

Bleeding on the windowsill.
Caterwauling at empty closets.
Loving her psychiatrist as a friend.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s