Sunday, December 12, 2010


say woman like you mean it
drag out the beginnings of a stutter
wail the last syllable
picture me no less than half then
more than a piece for trade

do you know the cost of a buck
and twenty-cent change lover
i wish i wasn't the bitch
you make me out but
nevermind that

come to me reeling
from empty-bellied women
and i'll massage the stale
away / make melody in your
ear so you can have song

like how i bring you life
then call my god-given name
this time / like a horse whip
cracking across the pitch
black of my salty back

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