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Red Nail Confession
you taught me to wear
come-fuck-me nails
with aplomb,
to smoke a cigar,
all feminine-butch,
and kick back a shooter;
to laugh as if I were
15, not twice that age.
I wasn't ready for that call.
in all the talk about
our funerals, planning them,
who'd attend - who wouldn't
we never made a gameplan
for guilt or pain ,so
I fucked your lover
on a back gravel road,
a fumbling solace,
escaping your flat
sheened skin, slack jaw,
the wire i knew was there
but couldn't see.
there's a lacquer dot
on your headstone,
vibrant red slicked
on slate grey,
my brand of apology
this poem my confession.
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Midnight Train To Nowhere
dry as a
post-menopausal cunt
while myriad conductors
shout "all aboard"
that particular ride
decrepit hobos
climb up, take a turn
rain used to dance
stacattas on her tin roof
before the travelin' men
both came and went
now there's shame and pain
sounds akin to dry winds
no skills to close
the doors, stop the ride
the rhythm of pumping axles
clacking, pounding away at
the night, the occasional
whistling scream warns
of her coming while
she looks for a man
like dear old dad.
**********************************************
Observation Through A Chink
the god-head can't resist
the mouths of angels
while lashing Eve
with stretch marks
crow's feet
blood penance
an angel wipes slick, golden lips
with the back of one ethereal hand
and goes to the rear of the line
you must be feeling benevolent
so let's forget about the whole
genesis play, act and scene
this time around
i'd ask that you
give man kneepads,
neglecting to mention
that head includes
job or god
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