7:59 pm / Tuesday, Sept. 16, 2008
Mushrooms the size of my angered fists are growing outside of my house;
As if there isn’t enough poison in your leaving alone!
The rain that spawned them is a nervous sweat--
The world is afraid to tell me it lied.
He gives no plea for forgiveness.
Just flouting of my emotion,
My ability to love.
The taste of your kiss still warm on my lips--
I jerk fungus from between the still wet grass
There must be a bit of you in there!
It comes as a surprise: the white-gray flesh won't kiss back!
If I sink my teeth in—
I suspect I’ll be poisoned,
Where were my suspicions of you?
I should have expected your worst,
But you kissed me back, so I took advantage of that.
Why not? Your lips tasted bitter, but good.
What a terrible feeling! To
Lose my sense of pride—
Lose my sensibility.
I conclude: If I love; I lose.
I irrationally fear that they might cut down our trees--
Your poison takes all of my lovers from me
They’ll tie neon green plastic bows around trunks
And axe them down
Until I bleed—
Until the mushrooms leave.