Since my poetry novel (yes, it's a poetry novel, not a collection), "The Horror Show" is dropping this week, I was in the mood to write something that resembles a poem and share it with you. It's actually based on a research project I'm working on, and may or may not involve bananas.
A species of thighs
and elongated sighs
“your finger
tips
are smooth.”
You must really like
vampires,
(use both hands
I insist).
A collection of limbs
buried in neon
(we look in the mirror
to see ourselves,
that’s why)
Upside down hair threads
glowing teeth, designs
arcane etched in flesh
(nobody wants to do this)
That’s my real name, too
the baseball game is drunk
while men encircle a stage
for the sake of half-bored
smiles,
and quivering,
a war of lips
eyes filled with black
heels that can prop
up Daddy’s favorite chair.
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