word drip

Reach inside me
Rotting gills
that sealed a fate
forever killed

Licking clean
the plates of thousands
hungry, soiled
prancing scoundrels

Pointing, laughing
as if to say,
worthless wench
dont stop to pray

If I stuck stakes deep in my chest
a trickled liquid, sucked in, detest.
A hopeful dance of fast forward box
has my swaddled edge in stock
on the bathroom sink
in the stall
down the hall
from my aunt Darlene 
stuck in cradled dreams

organized for stepping back
like chiclet pieces thrown across the floor
and like crushlets
curvy with flow
or bony bodies that beg for more

Sequined, savvy women
roam the halls of an unexperienced mind
asking me of my unintelligible motives
as I glue old pictures to the backs of the distracted
and distressed
I whisper
"shoo little baby, it is time to say goodbye"

Reviews

[Ms. Gruye]

typo alert!!!--like chiclet peices thrown across the floor
This should read pieces--or possibly pieces???

anyhow, what I enjoy most about your work is the obscurity of your imagery. you did a good job of striking a balance of your intended visual is and giving the reader enough room to draw their own conclusion. this is the same technique many accomplished songwriters work: ala tori amos, the fiery furnaces, and um...bob dylan. you're in good company.

onward and viva la!

[Cassandra D.]

I thought it was very well written.
Imagery was very well in this poem.
I enjoyed it.