Shut up and fuck, she said--
put down that pen & that
book in your head & all
this talk about useless ecstasy,
the fragility of gesture & look at me:
I've been rubbed with gardenia,
frangipani in my hair--
shut up, she said, put down
that book, she said, open your eyes,
give me your fingers:
look.
Gerald Fleming
Contents | Mudlark No.
3
| 34 | 36 |