Poetry from NER 39.4 (2018)
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In the language of handkerchiefs // there’s really nothing // I don’t want
I’m glad to be paid in gold // when the devil beats his // you know what

if you think it’s indecent // for a body to fan open iridescent // gird your gaze
because honey I’m throwing up // my kerchief like a flare-gun shot // watch me

unskirt a frosted muffin // top me with sprinkles // I’m flashing red-yellow-green-go
you’re the stallion and I’m the mare // smear my queer into the mirror // now you

are the mare and I am // the stale smell in the restroom stall // and you’re an all-
you-can-eat buffet // let me say your eyes are the most beautiful // urinal cake blue 

blew as in the past tense of blow // blow as in coke even though you // suck it up
buttercup and butterscotch // a man named Scott wants his Scotch // filthy gorgeous

or maybe that’s a martini // a man named Martin a man named // who knows what
who knows what it means to pluck roses // from my chest // using just his teeth

and sometimes yes blood // which is thicker than water // I know something thicker
it’s called incest // when a nephew makes his uncle say uncle // say pee say cock

Katie Perry sings the song // let me see your peacock-cock // behold my royal flesh
stamped with eyes // don’t tiptoe in your slippers // stomp on eggs shells balloons 

lick my boots until I see myself // being spit on like // you’re squelching the inferno
sometimes fire sometimes feathers // elect a whip or bind me // blind in leather

pink poke-a-dot and sea-foam green // if you don’t already know // let me show you
what it means for a boy to be // a boy-to-be // when hard in my harness you’d best

call me daddy // but don’t call any of this dirty // not unless the person doing it wants it
then it’s smut // wipe the rosary from my brow // use the fabric pouring from your lips