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Our urban chic
kinskey scale tipping
thing ignites
juicy titters
inhaled brows
curled lips
homo erotic
hamaritia
gases a
mass gasp
of collective
sterling cynicism
we see
the unseen seed
slinking, succoring
what they cannot perceive
the sexless soul
we

Poetry after the marriage bed
runs stale
like the cereal in the pantry
long forgotten
frozen blood
slugs through my veins
my body
doesn't even
manipulate him anymore

Poetry after the marriage bed
is the stolen glass
of afternoon wine
that I can't let linger
on my breath
a cigarette stealthy
smoked in the garage

Poetry after the marriage bed
says nothing personal
because it's safer
to say nothing at all
to hang on his every word
and action
that's what mother says
keeps a man around

Poetry after the marriage bed
is a punished, malnourished thing
that friends and neighbors
mustn't notice is leaving
the child we said
wouldn't keep us
from who we are
must keep smiling
and I must suffer
like a good wife
like a good wife should
and put the poetry away