Plushclaw #2

Remember Lavergne who stood for the brooms?
cocooned in tattletale leggings bent and encumbered
her bloomers befuddled like doctors on tumors
cut kill shriek bleach suture
shrill she shrieked on those long Saturday nights
spread for some badboy "Deepthrob Todd"
rocks roll hard
hard rocks deep throb
pants found round her ankles all sassy and sad
spittle spent
bent and encumbered
who stood for the brooms?

and for whom?
on Saturday nights

she whispered

Plushclaw
Plushclaw is whom

Lavergne was found in a drainage ditch at 3:14am
assumed dead
tits like bulbous islands adorned
   by a single russet acorn each
belly cresting
mound floating like an army of washed-out ants
hopes crashed
spittle left to spend
she cried
BUT I AM STILL ALIVE

again
I TELL YOU ALL
I STILL LIVE

nonetheless
we turned away
we would not listen
we could not care
we could not spend the time
we faded and feigned
we forbade patience

y'all datin' or dancin'?

we could only answer

Plushclaw.

TA

I Broke

I tore into her
like a coyote its hare
rent her kindling thin collarbone with my rough cat's tongue
tilled the furrowed rows of her ribs
buckled her
drew iron hot
   and fast
      god so fast

smote her as it were
were I Divinity (and not just a shameful man)
lorded over her
threw her into long wet fits
belabored breath
into summer storm slick canyon trails
where moonlight does not crawl
where starlight does not taste

I broke her hard, you see
no tickling soft whisper
no slow brook slithering through a silent wood
no pleasure horse too dope to buck
I broke her
   and fast
      she broke me.

TA

Cowboy Killers

They were cowboy killers
she and he
buckskin buckaroos shooting buckshot bold
rolling chambers smoking
rolling papers
mascara and dread
pistoleros banditos bombshell
muscles clenching piston-like tendons
leather reigns slapping hot
they ran on
on into a black night
heat lightening lariats overhead
the storm twisting like a bruised sombrero
laughing in fits of whiskey speak slur slowly slower slumbering on
seek ye the devil these two
seek ye his kingdom

blue eyes bluffing his way through the bankman's charm
those sweet sweet sandalwood grips
those sweet sweet leather-clad hips
but the bankman was a dead man
asleep before they were on their way

you didn't have't kill 'em
I ain't ever have to do 'nothin
but you didn't have ta
ain't nobody I ever kilt cause I hav't did
I kilt 'em good
n'dead
cause I wanted 'em to be.

TA