harlequinn

Back by (popular?) demand, another poem of mine. These are all so old, I feel a little silly posting them; I think my newer work is more mature, but due to publication rights and what not, I'm not sure it's okay to put them up here before submitting them and giving up "first publication rights" to another journal. So that's it for now.

p.s. My camera and I made up so I put more stupid pictures into my albums.

P.P.S. this one has a loooong title

"A moment during which, while passing through the sliding doors
of a grocery store, a bent old woman accuses me of attempting
to filch her bag of potato chips:

I have become,
through letters
out of a grey
mouth, whistled
past pinched lips,
grouped into
clipped words,
a black-masked
bag bitch.

Criminal.
This is
my lunch,
dinner.

My round face
will devour her.
I must
look hungry.
She sees me,
a thief.
I eat up
this expectation,
point towards her,
ready to take.

You
are a pig.
I don't need
to fatten
you up.
Only sinners
breed bastards
like you.

I have become,
through diagonal
thoughts
patched into
a stereotype,
a figure
spreading
into obesity.
I lean close,
threaten
her nourishment,
widen her
straight eyes.

Don't.
I'll eat you
instead.
Broad bitch.
I know you.