Amy Carr

Rookie (October 22,1975 / Washington, DC)

Pleasantries - Poem by Amy Carr

She’s so nice.

So….

nice.

Pretty.

Little.

So pleasant to talk to.

But,
I wonder if she knows
I’m sitting here imagining
what it would be like to
pluck her eyeballs out…

as we sit and I watch
her think she owns him…

My, what a lovely figure she has!

Does she even see the way I
eye her throat,
nodding in agreement to what she says,
trying to see how easy
it would be to slice it open?

Or does my cheshire smile
and pleasant hellos,
giggling conversation, and
goodbye kisses
deceive her?

Does she think I’m her friend?
That we’re sitting here just talking?

Because he’s mine.
Always has been.
Always will be.

I saw him first.
I fucked him first.

What the hell does she know? !

She’s just so nice.
Such a nice….

Person.

Her skin will make
such a lovely
lampshade,
don’t you think?

And, you know what,
I do believe her
floating ribs
(assuming she still has them, the skinny bitch)
will make such beautiful serving forks!

Oh! What a dear smile she has!

With teeth that’ll look
devastating on a silver chain
around my neck.

What a laugh!
She thought she was
getting him,
when in fact….
she’d gotten…

Oh, but why quarrell? ? ! !
It’s only a matter of time.


Comments about Pleasantries by Amy Carr

  • (5/9/2006 6:48:00 PM)


    Awesome satire. I can see the whole thing as I read it. Great job! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 9, 2006



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