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The Lion

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Look me in the eye when your lips drip venom
The holes in my chest are splayed, and waiting for injection.
keep speaking
pushing poison into wounds you wrought.
If you laid with me the way you lie
the sheets would furl and burn
and soak in salt from unseen tears.
Watch bedposts crack when you sink your ivory teeth into them
splinters pinning sheets to flesh
constricting cotton, fangs, and slimy tongue.
But you would not give me such repose
So stays my pillow soft and cold
sleeping silently in the company of plastic stars.
Calm unconsciousness is the antidote.



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