All it is - a dance, skin on skin
Bow played by fiddle in the night
Screams, not of ecstasy, but of
e m p t I n e s s
Sweat slick as snot, lubricates
But no gentle words to titillate
Does he know my name?
Doubt it, he called me baby
and that is the provenance
of penises that perpetuate myths
like, “I love you…baby”
They want young flesh and big breasts
They don’t want commitment or responsibility
I want to kill them, cut off their penises
and make a Sunday stew
In a list
A contest entry
- Sharon Olds (contest) by AJ Morelli.
1500 points, ended May 7, 2007, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Thank you for reading my work!
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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..remind me to miss Sunday dinners at your house..lol.
Gritty..and good!
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well... you just blew me away...
the emotion is naked and real, great entry...
al -
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Thank you
I usually try to be nice - but that isn't a constant in my nature.
Gotta go stir the stew!
Wolfie
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Oh, Bill
I only freak on Sundays, so you are....
Wolfie -
Fabulous entry, but remind me not to allow you anywhere near me with a big knife or a pair of scissors!
Bill
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wow...full of anger and no hesitation in showing it. I like this Lorena Bobbit attitude. A litte pepper please
good luck in the contest
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