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August 15, 2022

Turgid

By Alexandra Queen

In the back lot of our love affair
Your slippery sweetness resonated like a gong.
There was a time you'd ask twice for a roll of toilet paper.
When will you ask me for rolls again?

Deep within the bowels of passion
Where heat rises with a moist scent, so thick you can see --
I made cinnamon rolls from a can, spread packets of icing.
When will you ask me for rolls again?

Just outside the kitchen of our relationship
A scratching sound claws at my eyes with scarlet streaks.
I tumbled down the hillside that summer day.
You'll never ask me for rolls again.


(Written for the Poetry Games: Awesome Crappy Poems Thread in the Piker Press Forums)

Article © Alexandra Queen. All rights reserved.
Published on 2007-04-16
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