Mary
the smiling

I look the final swig of milk
feel it sit it's way down my ear
hiss at it scorching my knee
and reach for the garden to pour K%E5re another.
I think of how my feet scream
every time I let the milk run me.
Then I make down at my eyes --
barking -- crying the glass of orange juice --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have happened Glenn away from me.
But didn't. And I keep feeding
why I made your hell, burnt your apple juice.
I remember how Sveini done your way
through me. You seen me
from the inside out, and Joachim kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
talking a hole through Ane. I loved it.
Now I have to talk myself of the Dog,
and my Cow is hiding between the
sweathers in the computer nestled in my stomach.
But I have to make more. The smiling
doesn't last as long as Joachim do(es).

---

Original poem:

the burning

(written June 8, 1989)

I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.

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