Shadows hang as if from meat hooks
tucked in one, a bottle of roach-killer wine

her face pushed into a caseless pillow
she feels each grunt and thrust
and the hunger and anger of it embarrasses her
into offering gratitude and apologies
five full minutes past the time it matters
in that space between who she was
and who she can never be again
between please and thank you
below her closed and opening fist
a ton of what look like deflated
white sausages, penises
thrown on the floor of fractured syringes
and twinkling needles, wink seed and star
and scattered, shattered prisms.

Might as well

His Harley leans
against a piss-stained wall
he wants to know
stomps his boots
demands to know
where the hell Iíve been
I arch my back
fake a passing interest
a slow licking of lips
oh yes, he still wants me
to happen to him
is tweaked enough
not to care who else knows
raises his fist
follows me into the bar
bloodshot with opiates
infections, tattoos
other biker chicks
laugh, might as well laugh
with the rest of them
about how stupid he is
for being so strung out
keep laughing
until it is my voice
laughing the loudest
the longest, the toughest.

That kind of night

Not the kind one slouches into
lingering on corners, in doorways
more a moon drawn tide
menses, brain slosh, dancing
in the middle of the road
right on top of the white line, night
one in which to curl a leg
kick high into blind currents
hook a stiletto into the bloated
too-full moon, hold it there
until shavings of dazzle
fall from its ruptured belly
she dances with one eye
clamped shut and the other fixed on
one or other of the inexplicably
doubled white lines
in the middle of the road
laughing, laughing, laughing
at all the bloodshot taillights
of slowly cruising cars
stupid, impotent drivers
unaware they are caught
in her private, glorious, moon spill.

Eileen Malone lives in the coastal fog of the San Francisco Bay Area where she is a mental health activist. Her poetry has been published in over 500 literary magazines and journals. Most recently her poetry book I SHOULD HAVE GIVEN THEM WATER was published by Ragged Sky Press.

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