If girls are apples, this thing’s like a core—
the glossy skin peeled off, the sweet juice drained,
the body (pesky excess) pared away.
And who’s to say you should want something more?
If girls are buildings, all you need’s the door
and one small room. The rest is too ornate,
clever façade and showy balustrade,
inimical to shelter, structure, warmth.

If only real girls came apart like this—
if you could take a mouth between your hands,
and save a second, separate mouth to kiss
when you were done. But no, they don’t, you can’t—
can’t see, through their dark bodies, what’s inside;
can’t take their heavy flesh and make it light.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s