yr plastic breath stolen in brittle gasps
weak at the calves, we grip rails
surf the rectal stars, this gnu cell of us
my bold finger in you, the tear
yr bovine fist at the barricade
firm and sacred, a turgid hammer
the bass blare cutting faster, deeper
yr nipple in the bamboo slice, my head
our guttural harmonic sigh, buried
at black moon point
and today baby, we sweat last night's chemicals
in toxic bucketfuls, pissin on the bodies
alone in frenzied meth-stench
a pornography of sentences
smiling at the neon gods
we are
(poem for moTHER has words)
25 May 2009
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