Using the crowbar on me — I am more tired than angry
with you — endlessly waiting — I’m aware you don’t love me;
the way you love the scarlet lady out your backdoor
I’m shaking alone — only the veins in my forehead
pulse – applaud my effort — goddammit… will you notice me —
and if I could scream — would it blow a hole though my neck
swirling and flowing like bloooo-oood – she seems so lazy – it’s
cool and blue; it’s a slow fuck like jazz; g’head look in the crater
lick suck swim, come out to eat her;
g’on baby, work with me sinister…
— for three eyes make our monster — the tender plot of my
belly — two to splatter recklessly—like your fingers… across my face —-
so if you touch me — be sure to bury the pink petals…tie me up fast —-
faster, oh baby — if you could only see me now; now on the floor,
a slumped fist after the show — you’d know, how I hate you —
when you suck her you’d know to hold my wrists as I come
to ravage you – to tell you —
Tender petal of tongue in my mouth — how much
— how much.
Photo by Dimitri Bong on Unsplash
Elisabeth Horan
Elisabeth Horan is a poet mother student lover of kind people and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She writes to survive and survives to write - We are all battling something. Let's support each other. Elisabeth enjoys riding horses and caring for her cats, chickens, goats and children (not necessarily in that order). She teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.
