You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not
like. It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.

We once knew a girl
Polite and cold to the touch
Icy slopes that called her home
Still young and yet to unfurl
Words cut short saying so much
Died in her sleep writing a poem

Passed through a dream that night
Angels lifting from the blanket hug
Daylight came and she couldn't wake
Greeting father rose to the morbid fright
Grasped her hand and began to tug
Cried a hymn he just couldn't take

Friends at school didn't know she was gone
Laughed profusely 'til the deafening announcement
The intercom obituary stuttered and hallowed
That the golden lock girl had moved on
Pulling the threads of most at that moment
The closer of them mourned and bellowed

Noon grew somber and tears were of many
The girls held each other so firmly
The boys grew silent and shed what they could
Plans were made to remember the memory
A lot one over glistened with suited formality
I didn't attend and I regret as I should

In a flash she went there
In the flash she'll stay here
It's all flash after all....