Friday, April 6, 2012

FINGER CROOK

I'm soaked in whiskey
desperate for nothing.
I wiggle my tongue
and dirty fingers
at the void
so cheap in its
grim reaper costume.
I do not trust that robe.
Here I am exposed
so sweet
in my compliance
a kind of pastry
all sugary ooze.
It's the gobble
I want to feel
the empty
I welcome
the marrow deep silence
unbroken by stars.
I'm another woman
flushed rosy
with this sacrifice.
I'm soaked in whiskey
desperate for nothing.
You can keep
those flowers.





--Misti Rainwater-Lites



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