“Pre-Op”

I didn’t know

I was waiting for something

with two eyes and a grin

to swallow me up

Never spit me out.

I feel Not Myself

standing on a bulbous forked tongue.

Disheveled is a good word

I threw it in the river

with those fish who like to watch their own

suicides on live T.V.

I couldn’t find a note.

Someone’s mother was crying

in a Las Vegas hotel room

trapped by a bright red lotus

whose teeth I later sold.

I dreamed I was surgeon

operating on a Dead Man.

 

 

“Let Me Have”

She was inside of him,

clutching his ribs for support.

He didn’t want her there.

She made him a machine,

a creature of habit.

This sad discord,

shifting to a loud quartet.

He dragged her to the bonfire

and the flames were screaming,

lonely and strange.

Her hair caught first,

then her rosebud mouth.

He fell to his knees.

The devil was watching.