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My Insane Heart

Strange goddess or starving peasant,
she takes me,
clutching my hip,
an eye rolled up, her gaze
pinning me to the mattress
demanding that I die
one last time
with the grace of a begging man
trapped in her mouth
like a moth.
And after she’s dealt with
my lamentable needs,
displays her millionaire’s teeth,
tosses a toaster
in the tub
to restart my heart
as I lay there
exhausted, watching her,
big hipped and flat footed
walking erotically away
like a woman who’s had
a good time,
had a few children
and has a good idea
about what she wants.