301 Moved Permanently

301 Moved Permanently


nginx

Cold Cuts

Illustrated by Maryanna Hardy.

Illustrated by Maryanna Hardy.

Laid-out in pink shirt and green vest
In the warmth of her underworld
I wave to the shades slowly passing by,
Whispering that she does not exist, and if she does,
She wears nuclear armour on Mondays,
An Ebola extract on her lips on Tuesdays,
Dances naked in her garden on Wednesdays,
Buries the city in apple bloom on Thursdays,
Sucks the promises from the bones of her bankrupt loves on Fridays,
Jewel of the planet, oil for my lamp on Saturdays,
And on Sundays, in the early afternoons
While she leans on my abandoned piano,
Puts her little finger in her nose and nibbles on
The cold cuts she saved from my wake for her wedding
Swaying to the melancholy beat of—“You don’t know what love is.” »

From subTerrain #69.

Comments are closed.