bankrupt girls
And the gutted plum prattles on. Stumbling
across the chasm between degeneracy and delight, deep violet
& fleshy & ripe, without a body to deprave, a presence of mouths
A hard seed inside. A finger to the curve
purity protracted in skin-deep wounds, all bitter juice and stained handkerchiefs
spring is to come, first to emerge from the ground
so gently, judgement falls, splattered romantically across white lace
locked lips and heavy breaths, girls with bodies still unbroken.
Now you play the voyeur:
Purple drips slow across the breast. Another bite. Sucked down the throat
long with motion & lack the control & claw at the cinderblock behind her & rake at bumps along the spine & do away with those discs and pins that hold a body together.
Satisfied? Have half a mind to do it like those girls in westerns, who’ll drive it
into the wall and dress her down in the barnhouse, wake up and play girl sheriff
with abandon and gnaw on the title, get sober on that florid berry
watching naked girls twist in grimy bedsheets and unpaid debts, &
when the hand is outstretched to take, polish each phalange into shiny coin.
Now it’s all over, we’re rolling faster than ever before. Uneven skin
against smooth scars won’t let you forget the body, even when it is far away. Prune dry
and shrinking and dying upon her collarbone. Shiny times ahead.