Mise en Scène
he said. Licked three fingers, bent back to wrist.
All the way to where I was Beth, in grass light, retch.
In bikini in smorgasbord in mise-en-scène.
I sent pale tires, bacon bits, mildew. I fed
her from a dropper like a bird. She locked
like airports, bolted like rawhide. Wouldn't let.
Even if cellar, even if lawn ornament embossed
her pilot, flicker goat. I tripped we were home,
not flood or umpire. I tripped we were plugged
runway, shine package, salvaged hymn.
Shrub who bared the sharpest fang.
Or sucked and wrung saint blood out,
hung her dimpled on the back
of sutra bastard's front door. What root
takes hold in plaster, Shedrack,
or roof opens for trumpet head to pop,
or woof woof goes colonel wolf. Tell me
about fire. Jinxed labia, raven rock.
I know how lethal bicycles can be.
Teflon can kill. Holes in the ozone
are lassoes thrown from curvy stars
that don't care about my stolen
heart gone peekaboo on bumper cars,
her razor tits, her B.O. pussy wormed,
or yours (shitlace) either, even if it burns.
Violin and bitten, from chaste to chase,
lied again to lie again with him.
Chapeled in chairs, čert the devil in Czech.
Where were we then…location
and locomotion, broken broken broken
on my tongue. Left dumb and lusty.
Where were we then? Hummed a halo,
goodbyes good angel, cleft palate, hello.
Violet apples, tried to hell with it, spit
colors, splayed dollhouse, rolled votive
surfeit and counterfeit, surfeit and –
Where were we then? Red meridian
unhanded, blue variant, vervain where
blossoms rain into ran, blitzkrieg where