he’s larger than life,
a caricature of patriotism
in a thompson-esque world
of mania and devilish charm.
one hand on my waist,
the other on his new pistol;
puts me in a trance
watching him smoke cuban missiles.
sirens crying out at sea
won’t lure him into turquoise waves.
swears he’s from the tribe
that calls appalachia home,
but the mountains vehemently refuse;
cherokee roots thatta ways don’t grow.
i wished for his violent affection;
it felt like heaven’s projection,
but when i found a life worth living for
freedom he wasn’t willing to award.
swore he’d buy me the stars and
bestow a nomadic nebula to me,
but only if i sold him my soul
and gave him my castle’s key.
no amount of holy white flames
will devour the fingerprints and dirt
he coated my exquisite flesh in,
but i can paint them to show
the horrors from which i’ll grow.
strangled up in ivy and a kaleidoscopic spin,
breathing my vows while he dips me, achilles,
in that vile city river of sin.