I apologies
for my mistaken identity
as the angelic fair curled curved carved young-woman-who’s-a-beast.
Venus humbly presents
the mutually fortuitous fornication
of the bacteria feasting on our festive organs.
The fetishes I hide:
sharp brim imaginations
scenes of a broken frame
the emigration of those malicious circumstances
resonate
the banal existence of dining tables
and door bells.
I
sincerely
apologies for my dull convictions,
partial disclosures-
though, when you believe the maggots
in the afterlife
what room does our accidental breakfast occupy?
3 comments:
honest and poetic
now what did u really mean? ;)
this is very good. i thought of anne sexton.
this makes me think of something bad i did in another life (or even yesterday) that my conscience won't allow me to forget.
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