The ass show

Yours is a ninety-pound tongue
that suffocates how flies do.
Flies in the mouth. An army.
Wrapped deep in a trash bag—
think on this killer I got your face—
sores on Jupiter explode—
a boy loses his wedding ring—
the sky we share marries
in the fall too young—shame—
smiling with dwarves dwarf
organs slits and such—
yours is the barking face
I shy from like squirrels
gutted on the fang—I—
I can stop well—die well—
tell killer what else?—
a broken foot is a few bones—
why—that have lost their connections—


~ by Jeremy on May 17, 2011.

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