graphic by lyn enrico
and you are expecting this to be a sexy one, aren’t you?
sweet voyeur plastic seal between your teeth
open! get on and get it out!
…
what’s wrong, baby?
– where’s the skin? technically, everywhere
– what are you looking at? the liquid state of
undoing; full-frontal vulnerability.
… oh, for goodness sake!
it’s still her!
not that you would know
you can’t tell lips and teeth from eating.
observe. she’s all sweat
which is to say it is very warm
and everything is
moving
wet friction
spit in bassinet.
girl is not empty, my god,
she’s practically bursting!
if you want to watch
you can see just how much her body hates
(makes love to) her
in spite of bathroom lighting lip-spit
frenched reflections. curl into the
curvature like suds like scum
& spit again & wash away
& the silverfish two-foot tackle
(make love to)
bruised boyhood
thumb-painted dirt
in the shape of rough and tumble,
mama won’t be happy about this! silly little
ballerina: never dancing, always falling,
kissing the peach-plum knees.
she is always her politics always governed
by false accusations of divinity;
making footprints
smearing cement
fix that brain!
eat an apple!
arrange her, your little ribbon winner
which is to say she’s never in first but she’s never too far
away.
i don’t think there’s a single bone in these limbs!
i don’t think there’s a single film scene
she can’t see herself in.
right now she’s under the shovel;
do you have one dream you
just can’t shake?
in her neverend:
( she is stranded between staircases )
her duplicate appears to scream right in her
face — i am asking you to imagine
the worst moment of your life
having already passed
with no way of knowing
it can’t get worse —
it can’t get worse.
pursebrained, fishing
for coppers
which is to say that she is pleasing her father
and he is pleased
come here, my little magnet fingered boy girl!
keep winning!!!
keep your eyes open, it is very late
now. if you close them
she blinks out of existence;
sinks with handfuls of hair
…
– what’s that space? an opening:
coated gullet of stork
a birth; a rebirth; a suicide
one body
with room
for one body.
(this is the deconstruction of the world’s
largest superhighway)
pull back the sheets
and her stomach, gaping
you will find feather scatter
hands on hands on hands on hands on
hands on hands on hands on hands on
hands on hands on hands on hands on
hands. every one a pair.
every pair grasping.