Aftermath of the missed Period /push/
into a mass
on the tip of the cunt,
like the tip of a tongue
with a word hesitant to roll off of it.
and the pain! a peal of thunder
no crown like the present,
giving birth to the king of thieves giving pain like stealing a second virginity.
wouldn't he stop
ordering the battle cry of the
reversed male figure,
the Emperor with his fingers
tasting the waters of distended sex.
it wasn't supposed to be like this. not in my epidural dreams
and easy fantasies sliced and served cesarean over melon.
in short breaths
so i nearly break His hand.
Tit for tat. The tit being mine,
that the child will devour.
the finale is neither jubilation
With selfish glee, the pillow's hardness surfaces slowly
past the shadows of the aching
they call 'miracle'
and i remember where i left my agenda-book
when my water was shattered.
i 'ask' Him to go get it for me.
The machine rolled over on its side,
at least in its mind's eye.
I'm tired of thinking in earthly terms,
thought Yellow Rabbit & with that,
he expanded himself into
the next several dimensions.
Black bird, black bird --
you're out of line
& responsible for the mess
in the kitchen again.
Yellow Rabbit had stayed up all night,
doing laundry & stapling scraps of paper
covered with doodles & scribblings
to the walls, hoping for some kind
of miracle like he'd seen on TV.
"Taco ball?" offered the rabbit.
Crowe sat there with his head down.
"Caw," he whimpered.
the spoonful of taco balls
against the wall.
His cube was supposed to be airtight,
but somehow the pungent stench
of the neighboring swamp
made its way to his brain & oh, man!
"THANKS for your chemicals,"
he said while standing in front
of his David Bowie mirror,
plucking his eyebrows.
"Thanks for YOUR chemicals,"
he said, changing the emphasis.
his little rehearsal was interrupted
by the clamor of an ancient orchestra.
With his paw,
he swept his eyebrow pluckings
into a small pile & sighed.