January 13, 2018

Poetry: “Darts”

Ride the one-trick pony
Take a heavy load off
On my lap.
I’ve chains to spare —
You saw to that,
Old chap.

Chafe your thighs
Until little white lies
Taste like white light.
Agony squelches
Between merry-go-round punches,
And hair-pie munchies.

Did you forget to calculate
The methodical pleasure
Of counting on hate?
The sins you saved,
As barbed whips to lash
Your slaves into shape.

But amorphous amour
Totes an artillery
Of incalescent darts,
Aimed straight for xeric hearts,
And sees through bold transparency:

Your shadow’s afraid of me.


© Jane Bled 2016-2018
All Rights Reserved.

Two-headed cyclops © Jane Bled