You come out of the master bedroom closet
in the daintiest of nighties
I do all the talking as we
lay down on the bed
I whisper sweet nothingness
into your unhearing ears
I fill you with my love and
you make squeaking sounds
I would offer you a post-consummatory cigarette
but I fear you might melt
I rinse you out
I deflate you
I stick you back in the closet...
next to the air pump
Hey! Wasn't this published in a very cool poetry magazine recently? You know I like this one. Makes me laugh. Only you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think it was in a 'remark'able magazine.