To the Artist's Page                   To our home page

To K. R. Copeland's previous piece     To K. R. Copeland's next piece

A Taste of Breaking Up

My teeth are off-white
grub worms, jutting up
from earthen gums
in a filth of mouth,
an ass-crack-house of sour.

Half an hour since
our spit-and-hiss departure.
Salivation, sulk and savor
our farewell, a French-kiss-off
of awful flavor.