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A Sonnet Since You Asked

Retch my anima as gall nut ink, serve
her neurosis, a match pressed to marriage
doused in acetone drowns the scent
of halcyon hopes. Admit: a pale fox hangs
from my back—bridle your glower, artifice
was cut from my tongue—its haunches
brace the weight of a gibbet. Please laugh,
I am a joke; your porcelain dollhouse
erected in show. Lather acrylic:
stroke, a demure love, but bash a hammer
& chisel to Reynard’s jaw. Pillory
his purpose—bind me to your fettered scale.
Your ears are waxed shut. You lent me a pen
in April & I never gave it back.

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