Again and Again and Again

 You said the anger would come back 
just as the love did.


I have a black look I do not 
like.
 It is a mask I try on.
 
I migrate toward it and its frog 
sits on my lips and defecates.
 
It is old.
 It is also a pauper.
 
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
 
I give it no unction.
 

There is a good look that I wear 
like a blood clot.
 I have 
sewn it over my left breast.
 
I have made a vocation of it.
 
Lust has taken plant in it 
and I have placed you and your 
child at its milk tip.
 

Oh the blackness is murderous 
and the milk tip is brimming 
and each machine is working 
and I will kiss you when 
I cut up one dozen new men 
and you will die somewhat, 
again and again.

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