PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am the old maid left at the house
while you ravel your kinks
and let your tongue out
to smother a quench
an irreparable glide
catches between your jaw

I am aged, worn
ugly prize that once shown
beautiful, strung from the back
but hanging, swinging
back and forth in your horded closet
that opens no more

“Cut me down and bring me out,”
say the spiders who vacate my mouth
and birth in my eyes
tiny little movers
trickle down my neck
and wrap their tiny webs around my fingers

I become a widow
a swallow
a feast for life that thirsts in my sweat
maggot and fly
share my spine
and nests upon nests of growing hunters

You have forgotten me
lusted in festivity
not a word, not a word
but I remember them all
a disgust, a blackguard
howling, harrowing

I get the bowel full
hurl
whack job of a girl
poking her salty legs
in my wounds-
food, red hourglass spool

She sucks me dry
and sinks her poison
cry I am! I am! I am!
death. I am death
and I know no bounds
I knead you no more.