Though yearning for her touch
sleep desires other than I.
Opening upon a song
my breasts tingle.
All disturb my dark
though only Mary dares
as women confess their love to marry,
the other, broken attempts at domination,
don't watch the movie, look at her skirt
Gay male drag queen hookers in film
steal mine while reality grates their cheddar
cheese against a scraping heart.
Lactose intolerance, explosive gassy state
of interminable length.
Neutra-Air Beware
Memo to self: buy Febreeze stock.
525,600 minutes
churn in santa fe air
x6, x7, x9, x12
Life is a homeless shelter
quipping in God's training grounds,
mocking purgatory fare
Vive la vie boheme
a poem waits there
Donations pile themselves on staff's desk
like discounted panties at Burlington's,
felled and dust stained across the floor
tossed out at the close of business.
My hands rarely sift the treasures.
Others skirt my issues with them
a means to weigh a spirit, yet
oblivious to the lack of matching
that blouses a failure to force feet
into heels two sizes too small.
I'm shouting, No Blood For Fashion
Sad, damn, who's saying:
No Blood For Justice
No Blood For Love
Mercy, mercy.
Mercy me,
Father.
Deidre Elizabeth lives in a homeless shelter and writes poetry. ms DOT deidre AT gmail DOT com