Sara Listens to love songs that remind her of how shes supposed to feel.
I am sitting
on the couch,
tv on;
and I say,
I’ll eat you.
“I don’t think there is much left”
Sara has cut her hair short As a boy.
Sitting on the couch, she lifts one toe up with a forefinger and thumb, and sneers
At the tv.
Dirty finger nails, my filthy bride Faded polkadots and loose blue bottoms,
She picks, picks, picks at the little toe that she’s holding up with the thumb and the forefinger;
my filthy bride, slowly opens up, and smells the weed, and laughs;
“I wish I could stop”
Sara eats, is skin and bones. Sara hates skin
on her toes.
