This poem was written two years ago, and posted here.

Inspired by PoemBlaze, I am reposting it for OpenLinkNight

Disclaimer: If a reader assumes a poet performed the actions described in a poem, they are reading on a far too literal level.

Valentine’s Day 2010

The hacksaw
with its layer of dried red frosting
I tossed into the lake.

The body parts
I hid inside long term storage
at the airport.

In silent mutterings
I practiced the patter
I’d give to the police.

She deserved it.

She had used her nails,
painted blood-red,
to scratch my crown.

She didn’t appreciate
my lubricious friction.
Big words for a whore.

Her last.