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a poem by Rose Aiello MoralesA Penny's Worth
a blaze of brilliance on a straight bell curve, dum dum bullets and blank stares, shot mouth death march of clattering teeth and Botox lips, slip in silently and leave a deposit. when the curtains rise and the show begins. The barest skin flick of a slimy wrist, genuflection, Saint Virginia of the Open Legs is bowing to you, on her knees, with her tongue hung low. things that bang in the night, a light pulsing becomes just a shorted bulb, dim bulb, nearly incognizant of the daily double between the thighs, blinking when the wet spent is felt. dollars rolled in tight little straws. Which one will break her back? In Dreamland, what you don't know WILL hurt you. but would have you cry for what she's lost. They would have you think she's been devalued, but there were no blinders on those open orbs. She knew what she came for and paid her price, pound for pound as the price of meat plunged. though I said I no longer had change for pennies. |