This house has nothing to say in response to your
wicked words: it can only
cauterize the wound with the
hot mouth of the barrel of your
gasping gun.

and your girl, she's never dealt with such
heavily-handed novelties; so limp
she can barely stand to put
her one-piece bathing suit on.

and your girl, she still dwells within this
house that you sold.

she's an ace, she's a child, and she don't know how
to time anything right.


holding [yourself] like a woman underpaid
heels on parade sporting false-diamond legs
no trail-blazed face
a run-away mouth
and opaque, pointed faith in your
next runner up

you (laughingly) requested
that I fashion you a pussy
out of grape-leaves, cellophane, and tar

anything for you, darling, I would make
& bear the insult in the manifestation