11.1.17

 

allow me

to reinvent the genuflect

and bend not forward

at the waist, but backward,

folded in half like a playing card,

as if possessed by the devil.

or

if i could turn my head

one hundred eighty on a swivel

i’d make eyes with you and ask about

your day, as you stood behind me

with that knife in your hand

waiting, wanting, wishing

to drive it in the flesh.

you are all i worship.

you are all that destroys me

from the inside out

outside in, you are my preferred

mode of annihilation.

 

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Written at 4:35 in the afternoon, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.