there’s a skelton in my closet
Heaven knows what should cause it
bound out with ugly claws it
opens ugly jaws to posit
that chrysanthemums are owls
licking bony jagged jowls
leaning in the windy howls
stems that bend and snap
fall into her velvet lap
green and mossy where they fall
if they even fall at all
like the stringy gossip thrall
whispered lips into the wall
(through a crack inside the wall)
like the lovers’ clandestine call
but thinner, violent and small
bound up inside my closet
nightmare composite
with a murderous Electra wit
if I even could control it
but the lock won’t split
light still unlit
press my ear against the grit
the tongue inside spits dictation
the door muffling its rations
shallow recitation
syntax broke against negation
prison-cell plantation
musing visit’s exploitation
my skelton’s teeth a constellation
beauty heaves inside her breasts
lingers on her breath
sweet sigh c’est
plus puissant que la mort
unchanged in Death I’ll take a listen
mumble barely above a frisson
(she says nothing else rhymes with listen)
save her eyes which surely glisten
at the thought of what I’m making
from the thoughts of hers I’m taking
with her knees aching, mind breaking
I’m making her
art unfinished, she’s waiting.
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