Denial
As night spills over the Infiniti
like my lover's locks against her breast,
I’m left to smear the stars from watery red
eyes as the moon burns through the dream-
catcher resting on the spider-webbed wind-
shield near the pen I gnaw until lighting
a Lucky Strike surrogate for that creamy
white breast, which but summons the blood
faster from my missing wisdom
teeth’s gaping gaps plugged up with the gauze
I spat, blurring the bloody chicken-
scratches on a lost stray
Hallmark card, denying “Jesus
loves you, Matthew,” as I knelt
to leave tonight’s Nyquil, Tequila and pain-
killing codeine not deadening enough
to cease the bloodlet from my jaw,
salty and rich as tears or the chicken
broth of my toothless sedation.
Now I know I’m too easily nauseated
for a world where love’s a Hallmark
card. So I grab my “Christian Brothers”
brandy bottle like that thrice-crowed
cock’s neck that echoed Peter’s denial,
wrung and wilted and betrayed as Judas
and us all left living in the kingdom
of lost tequila and wisdom
teeth, and drown in the blood-
red brandy, merely to feel this denial
rising from my inner realm of mucus
and tears, blanketing creation in night-
black pen strokes confessing my love to shreds
of napkins white as the wedding dress my love
will never wear.
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