"From Braid to Bullets"

There is a secret room within me
In it I braid my hair in the mornings
gliding in a blue chair
before riding a horse that is only knee high
where the trick is to keep your legs up in half lotus
and hang on
We all have secret places
where we sing and kill our bosses
but underneath the mosses
where decay and truth get gritty
and we gnash our desires
The furniture of these rooms is unexpected
red leather love seat
cocks hanging from the ceiling
green latex lounge chair
nipples on the ottomoan
where we knit
and suckle an image of ourselves
unknown, unfettered
Here when my teeth fall out
I plug them with bullets
and smile a threat in fate's eye.
I flick a tongue at punishment,
and wave a goodbye.

Comments

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