November 2, 2017

Poetry: “Fashionista”

Ermine stoles
Caress bold bared shoulders.
Collarbones jut
Like animated tombstones.

Dip slick wick
Into the hollows —
Hallowed ground
For those who follow —
Accursed valley
To the devoted departed.

Evil’s bitter face,
Halved by heartbreak,
Opens unhealed wounds
Like shotgun holes.

Blow smoke rings:
The bitch still sings —
Mincemeat between teeth —
As blood bubbles burst
From holy throats.

I send her blessings
That burn like curses;
Stroke settle-down-honeys
Into her stiffened-fur haunches;
Rehearse the curtain call
In her blinged-up hearse.

Lost in the blue moon,
I am utterly lost
In you.



© Jane Bled 2016-2017

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