Speaking for Edvard Munch’s Sin
I am your sinlong-haired womancoiling serpentpraises roundyour throat: I clingto you like the fragranceyou wear compulsivelywithout my consent.I am the carbonmonoxide your rattlingribcage exhales; the jeweledoxymoron; thorn in the fleshof your Achilles heel,your frailty housedin treacherous nunnery dark after vespers evaporate a catacomb stench of bones & memories of howyou masturbated on fullmoon nights like a sillybleached vampire.Darling, I amyour wide-eyed sin—growing unkempt secrets behind youreyelids, the dirt in yourfingernails, the piss in yourpants, the garlicnymph reekingformaldehyde.
