Sunday, April 3, 2011


Zoo-girl, your den is empty.
You have some kind of blister-condition.

Havoc and lust and long bodies. Mouths talk, teeth glisten.
Your long-winded letters are hot sobs

And ink-screams. You didn't mean to mail out
Your collection of metaphors.

Terror sucks the grapes
Of cold dictator-nations.

Days later come the lily-girls to tea.
They bring their china-smiles, their

Pale personalities. Some even bring their clean white
Children. One by one you crack their shallow

Cups. And then each chair is empty.
Air is your only friend.


CJ said...

I'm pleased

That your mother gave me your blogspot

On the back of a torn doctor's appointment.

Life's funny, ain't it?

Poetgirl said...

Indeed life is funny. Love the torn off note. There's a poem wriggling around in that image. Thanks for coming, CJ.