sans titular characters
By Claudia Dapice

we bite at each other's intestinal tubing, 
simultaneously scream: 
"why do you not love 
the way i clamp & gnash 
any longer, my dear thing?" 

we are skidding 
on the scalpel, 
gingerbaby. 
my nostrils 
would n'er flare 
like so for another. 
you damned 
brother, sister, 
papabear, milkybreast, 
& once [(c)lover] 
before i grew 
frightened 
by your curved hand 
(augmented 
to the head 
of the chicken 
at hand. ) 

&you 
(are) of my droopy 
detachable eyelids 
which i peel 
on&off 
like stickers 
over the bruises 
of every
moaning
fruit. 

&you 
will hammer ev'ry home 
w/ that canine sickle, 
drive the soggy ants 
out o'their 
pyramidal palaces 
which line the fists 
of womyn&childryn 
gunning to topple 
your bobbing gullet 
&the musket 
you harbor 
btwn your legs.