The Mortician

blondes with see-through tops curdled

by inked wings and lines of their ribs

alley cats digging their teeth into mice 

       a bestial disquiet 

aflame under green-tinted fluorescents 

i puncture and suck at an unripe peach 

rotund, golden 

hands calloused with paper bags 

my tongue probing the seam of my gums 

the clerk rubs his eyes like jewels 

nothing makes me more 

sick than beautiful things

scales pressed cool against fingers 

the sinewy flex of shoulders  

a woman in a red dress 

walks near, smelling of

ginger and toothpaste 

she’s barefoot over dragon-patterned tile 

veins jutting out of her heels

i only feel in dreams 

her eyes fixed like liquid chrome

i’m kissing her shaved face 

undoing the tie of her hospital gown 

my fingers ensnared in 

the eyelets of her skin 

the grocery-list fades on her palm:

milk

boxed pie

detergent 

i envy the nestling bugs in her vertebrae  

welts spilling across acne, her heart beating in my chest

    so close i could rip it out

soft-bellied brutality, know my name: 

fleshy               

angelic      

mechanical 

her mouth releases me 

my head hits the floor with a crack 

blood wells in my cupid’s bow  

the buzz of neon and soft breath 

she’s tugging at my sleeve and staring at me

i shove her away