April, you're the cruelest:
you flirt your frills at us
your daffodils, your narcissus,
your tulips. You sweet lipped
sass. We've had enough of
you, sprinkling your glitter
threefully, gleefully,
our eyeballs itch with it
you giggle at our sneezing, you
slip breezes at us sweetly
as if we'd smile through our misery.
You tease. Too fecund
floribundant. Spring is
tyranny. We itch and weep
admire your ruffled twirls.
We've had enough of this
soft torture, this lovelines.
Of all the spring months, April is
the springiest.
Tuesday, May 5, 2020
i feel
snakes in my throat,
their muscled thickness warm
in my mouth, pushing,
i will spit out snakes
my snake full throat is
revolted
like when a foul
sweetness curls
its thick self
back
behind my tongue
I would gag if I could
close my throat
but there are snakes
in my throat. I could
open my mouth
let them slide strong and
smooth scaled
out
i could
open my mouth
glass would fall out
and cut up
the world into
thin slices
i would taste my own blood:
metal, electric
my mouth is slippery
cut up
i could spit glass
at
their muscled thickness warm
in my mouth, pushing,
i will spit out snakes
my snake full throat is
revolted
like when a foul
sweetness curls
its thick self
back
behind my tongue
I would gag if I could
close my throat
but there are snakes
in my throat. I could
open my mouth
let them slide strong and
smooth scaled
out
i could
open my mouth
glass would fall out
and cut up
the world into
thin slices
i would taste my own blood:
metal, electric
my mouth is slippery
cut up
i could spit glass
at
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