Contract Killer

She took the hilt

Between the teeth

Twisting round

Pushing leather deep

Unsheathed, raw steel shines alive

At the casualty of sound to come

Syncopations rhythm grows

Primal surge, crescendo

Under the mask of day

Collides the guise of night

Under the cutest grin

A smile’s born in sin

Constriction tightens its clutch

That’s when her eyes rolled to touch

Squirming from anguished horizon

Into a chalice of trust

Flora ignites the pleasured scent

As the poppy’s milk skews sense numb

From a frenzied savagery

Ascension crests,

A transformation through thrashing

Sinews debased: Corporeal, feral,

As spindrifts snuff

In unison

Yet…

Rise she does

In deepest gleam,

Forcing rancor to the forefront of gaze

Pausing…

She took the hilt

Between her fists

With violence descending quick

And soon the sternum breaks

Unsheathed, raw steel’s a dull grey

As a casualty of lust, trust’s betrayed

Gasping; flailing incoherent

She places finger upon lip

Whispers the darkness comes quick

Forever stained with the wash of her

Never to bathe again

…And she redresses

Knowing the soul’s lingering

Eyes watch as she pens

Three words into still smooth flesh

DO NOT RESUSCITATE

Near a freshly painted paneling

There’s a window that leads out

Through the paper-thin screen

A reddened daybreak can be seen

Illuminating what remains of last night

 I don't know where this one came from, but thought it an interesting idea and decided to roll with it, of course blurring the lines a bit.

Mercurial Rising

Bluster of the simmer code// arranged-mister- perfuming harbor-harbormaster, vigor, vignette, vinaigrette, and VOICELESS aggregate

Pejoratively pejorative deprecatory//tersely trimmed: rations built by polyps scantily besperpled all about. Strewn the streets in voided locks

Bluster of fluff and the unsubstantiated cavalry of somersaulting tambourines.

His daughter was a merchant.  She wished to be an actress.  She dreamed in fairy tales- worlds furthest away from a chastising, cigar-wielding boss of a man.  His daughter, dressed to Sunday’s best, skipped the service talk, jogged around the holy block, dress flocking to the wind, upskirt sentimentality, pickets picked for curls.

To the boys in the corner shade, she searched until they no longer could evade.  She earned the sum.  She sold the goods and now a merkin she would own, to guard her pretty.  (All the result of a dumb magazine story, where “you ain’t getting nowhere in Hollywood until you got the goods, and if you got the goods-then you’d be best advised to guard them good.”  Well she thought, I’m a merchant as much as anyone else, I got the goods.  But to defend- well that she could not pretend.

Tautologies- again and again, over and over

The Diagrams of Venn are missing a few relationships- they can’t account for those unknown.

Oh no, the vang broke- snap, snappity, snap

The ambrosia was made especially for you

But there’s still dessert

Barely able to take another bite

Everything was so delicious

Like seltzer

She settles me

She makes the ordinary beautiful

Fork to plate-fork to mouth

I can’t stop watching her

My eyes can’t focus elsewhere

Eye to eye again

How does God choose his blessings?

Times like these I wonder

 Cheeks redden both

                                             Eyes meet steady long

Perfection meets me at the door