A Bright Charm
His squeal was not at all
As pathetic as the barnyard pig
Whose blood jets propelled
That old expression, “bled like a stuck hog”—
He bled beautifully, just the right color
And sticky-sweet texture she expected from him
And his flesh shucked off those bones easy
And clean as pulling his t-shirt right off his back.
His plump rump slid off as easy as his white cotton
Undies. His joints unhooked quick as any brassiere
She ever shucked.
Standing ankle-deep in guts
She marveled at the cooperation
Of the sum of his parts,
They seemed to want to be put asunder.
Still, she’s truly sorry it had to end that way—
She’d rather his tongue be sliding over hers
Than down the gullet of those buzzards—but oh well,
His cherubic face glowing like the moon
Is a bright charm dangling from her bracelet of old lovers.
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