Nubile Bourgeoisie
they have saucers in their eyes, wiping blood
smoking opium, communist manifesto
you wait, into the void of desperation, blood, uterus brain
piano stool, as Tonya’s ass, to defend, needing a fix, orbital dance
leaves you, the walls give in, as this life swallows, from banging
in the rear of the saloon, hanging over the beam, this fake democracy
you whole, to the butcher, as far as Chicago
sheer lunacy, skeletons tightly packed, laughing eyes
the mossy Hamburg , in her closet, snouted brutes, of the Holy Ghost
with beer trumpets and bent needles, her mother’s muff
for her pickled meats, to know that I was dead
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