Friday, August 27, 2010

I bed hopped last week
lost my earrings and sleep,
and all your pillows and sheets,
reeked of treachery and me.

The demon caught me knee-deep
in other women's desperate dreams
In vain I tried to feel dirty
even as the cross singed me.

As winged hordes danced and leaped
and counted last night's bruises on me
I shook with laughter as I pretended to weep
(as I sat on my favourite god's knee)
and still god's favourite child I continued to be.


rita said...

I love it!

chickenshit said...

never knew there is such a talented poet in you

uglygirl said...

thank you guys!