Posted: May 1, 1991 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,

I have killed you before in a dream
and I was savagely happy with myself
playing in the sandbox alone
with my painted toys and
turning the hose on and washing
your blood from my dump truck.
don’t worry if I dream without you
I won’t care if you hang me
by my left foot and burn my skin
off until I bleed wetly, just
a pinata even after we’re dead
I regenerate, you’ll heal, I’ll get you
a taxi.

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