Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Gift Horse

my face is hot
but you gave me freezer lemonade
served appropriately in a
mason jar

and I could take off my
skin, leave it in a puddle
on the warehouse floor
rummage in the dirty records
bare bone and a
stupid grin

mere elements of flesh
left dwelling in that glass
until someone finished me
or poured me out

letting me dance in their
digestive juices or get absorbed
by the Tuesday sun

grizzly gravy to your pro-offered
token, odd dwellings of a
macabre mind

but I think I'll pass
I don't want you to think me
forward, flesh being a
hot topic and I'm not really
all that thirsty anymore
anyway.









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