Treasure Island

Glen Lantz


impaled with a pin


Impaled With a Pin


eleven said open the window
cracked and bleeding
sunlight bruised skin
the sunlight hurts eleven’s eyes
she wants to take it all in
bludgeoned by the truth
like a baby seal
pure viciousness
in her skintight pants
the negative space V in the middle
slurring ever since
comforting sharp points
hands in her pockets
a lodge in the windpipe
the anthrax of tacks
feeding sheets of chemical afternoons
precise rectangles
a cerebral box
huff and puff
blow me across the room
with one big gust of wind
and goes behind a cloud
gathered and curled
the collected moans
held within herself
they grow bold over the summer
just another hell of echoes

© Deep Piercing Cut

Submitted: Tuesday, July 28, 2009
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