men touch me
like auctioneers--
with moist, fleshy hands
sweating for a bite, grazing
my scars with excuses, **********
the succulents on the coffee table
all under the rug with their
dusty presumptions,
hawking beneath
the skylight
with a hunger
for the bedroom
seventyfiveeightyeightyfive
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 10:37 PM UTC
men touch me
like auctioneers--
with moist, fleshy hands
sweating for a bite, grazing
my scars with excuses, **********
the succulents on the coffee table
all under the rug with their
dusty presumptions,
hawking beneath
the skylight
with a hunger
for the bedroom
seventyfiveeightyeightyfive
(c) Brooke Otto 2015
i hope this poem sounds as gross as I feel about this
