Her

after her “lies”

           the words whisk up the jigsaw

ladder of this residue

this discretion

haunted last night by obese men giving cunnilingus

forcing the heads of our enemies with red tape in front of red curtains

making love on a stage

with family devilry curtsying round and round it

the doctor dies in her story

KTL is a martyr and one of those last cases

that in the Real World, ripped his practice asunder

banned from the registry

by the Queen Dragon Slayer’s command

and the babies so weak and wily

one a callgirl

one born still but breathing

happy to be alive

or gross at the thought of love

the doctor, is of course, her father

the father of their children and she is

the mother and sister to their daughters

poor Pearce though, spurned on by the thoughts

of history replicating

plentitude wrought with abortions

dear, dear girls

with Rita’s brother in the basement,

“meat in hand,” whipping against her face

the Hustler folded neatly in the corner

and Sage, how much safety are you missing

valent properties undress you, leave you gagging on the ground

never complain

            who or what had you in poorly lit windows

even the gays wonder if this is why you’re gay

what

            if anything’s

                                    going to straighten you up

- Jessica Bruhn