like the looming limited building
that lurked near my childhood home
my public display case is fronting
the process of my work in progress.
& do the springers send me on my way?
the daisy chain which breaks my fall,
my endearing femaleness which paints me, fey,
my deviousness projected on the wall
for i’ve entered a serious arms race
a parabola peaks, my age disintegrates
proportionally to the way my voice breaks:
and if it hasn’t yet morphed into a sacred fat cash cow,
i’ll slaughter it, gut it, devour it- live in the now.