For you, my pretty, for holding me
Under the microscope and studying me so spiritlessly, I
Could be subtle if I wanted to be, I could be
Kind, but I fear that it would make me a messenger
Of lies;
For the way I truly
Feel has already revealed itself.
*****
It does not occur to you
That your dress is covered with
Tiny, little fish hooks.
On most of them,
Scraps of bait still hang,
Cricket wings, child wings,
Worm torsos, warm torsos,
Used condoms, and
Drained bottles of exotic perfumes.
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