Perverse

binge

“Wake up,”

Said the old white man,

His fingers down my throat

“Stay up, there’s more to do,

There is no rest for you tonight”

 

“Get up,”

Said the young white girl,

Her fingers in my nose

“Get going, there’s so much to see”

And she dragged me across the calendar

With nails like fishhooks

And I, writhing,

Like a prize

Waiting to be mounted

 

“Shut up,”

Said the old white man,

Kneeling on my chest,

Carelessly checking his watch

Until the epoxy had set

 

“Cheer up,”

Said the old white man,

His grip around my colon

“This pain is nothing like death will be;

Enjoy it while it lasts”

 

“F**k you,”

Said the dirty green man,

The reeking bum I’d grown to love;

He couldn’t speak, he slept in soil;

His filthy toes curled within my throat,

His callused heel scraping at my teeth;

I envied him, my father

 

“Oh my,”

Said the tired black man,

“They’ve made you pregnant again”

He didn’t ask; who asked?

Who didn’t know the regulars

“Sit up straight and gawk,

Be a baby bird” and then

He reached inside me and pulled them out

The rest, the regulars

 

“Thank you, Mr. Tired Black Man,

It couldn’t wait til morning”