Thursday, September 5, 2013

Year of the Rat

You have a tail
and I just might yank it.
if only to stop its restless lashing
The sick whiff of garlic and gorgonzola
curdles the air
Your sharp whiskers scratch my cheek
You lick the sticky from your palm
with your pink rasp
Plump raisins plop one by one from the pipe
plunk into a tumbler filled with milk
Silverfish, spider's milk, segmented eyes and a
compound heart, sipping stories through a straw
instead of gulp by gulp, spitting shells,
bones, stones, pips, seeds,
stems, rind, crimson blizzard of rust,
mudslide of mercury, avalanche
of plaster dust. Black socks strewn
across the sky. One silver stocking, pulsing with
cockroaches. Tear a hole in the toe and watch
them stream like sand from a sack. Cocaine
from a condom. My cupped palm
overflows with melted wax
rapidly coagulating, turning stiff
and milky in the cracks. Lips squirting
grease like a fountain,
our hearts beat like rodents
lapping at the splatter.

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