my unrelenting hands
would drag you to athens
to deny you
the sight of the acropolis
i would lash you
to the most spartan of chairs
naked
in a fire lit room
and churn butter
in a low cut dress
sweaty and writhing
in front of you
i would withhold apple pie fresh from the oven
i would stop singing as you entered the room
if i saw you on the other side of the street
i would smile and tell you
i love you
moving soundless lips
die inside
and keep walking
if i am to have no peace
you get no sugar on your spoon
6 replies on “lysistrata”
Alicia, I got a feeling you would be awesome to have drinks with.
This is kind of vicious. I don’t know how else to describe it. I love it.
There’s no going back after drinks with me…drinks are never as fun again, until they’re with me. This is not hubris, but experience speaking. You have become a reason to write.
Dude, you need no reason to write but whatever vile rage you have between your ears. One day, let’s have a drink together and see if we can break the world.
A vicious anti-love love poem.
Fabulous.
well all right then! you hammered that ending, chile!
and this –> “and churn butter
in a low cut dress
sweaty and writhing
in front of you”
got me & Shug fanning our skirts. I love you, girl!
Damn, girl, mission accomplished! I’m glad I leave a lasting impression! Thank you.