Friction Mistress

Where are you lurking, Lynette?

In the questions of your crevice

in the sparkling vignette of a plump prize pussy?

around the cast-iron ingot cauldron of the beating-stones

 chucked at queer girls after they killed Christ

I looked at KTL and saw a patient of mine

my patience would run out with her

but yours is magnolia-elastic

how fluid the droughts were in 90’s small town America

the bridge keeps closing toward us –                               I’m a mirror of your miracle –

this grey slant-eyed baby you carved between impenetrable blocks

of wood-headed men

that seldom ache to help like us

God help us not.

You’ve tricked me,

trapped in the cluster now

am I clouding you up,

                     trying to identify the unrepentant teem of

blunt awful fact

scares the shit out of some, doesn’t it?

cut up by your paring knife                                               the mass,

shaken it up,

pieces of spleen dancing everywhere

is it time to relax after Princess escaped daddy

            or

                        will Rita’s paper grin out lies too

- Jessica Bruhn