Elma
If what
she says is true
being is
to have
fences
outwitting
what's coming
like vermin
in hiding
dingy corners
keeping
time to the purring
every night
from everyday
late as
sunrise praying
to outlast
these insomniac twilights.
Being wretched
as a mule
skinning
her teeth to every muse
sucking
on someone else's
perversion
chasing
it all down
with leave-meh-somes
somes liquor
for later.
If what
she says is true
I'll be
waiting for oblivion
grazing
on the green
chewing
to one side
androgynous
as a pregnant
goat's
lazy eye
daring
slaughter.
