Lucía M. Polis The Poetry of

This poem appears in We Were Hateful People.

I haven't slept in a fortnight
you have memories
to look back on today

it's seven thirty
I shamble to the mirror
you're long gone

my hair has curled
because I'd ate you raw
the night before

my day proceeds in fits
(the beat is restless
'til it comes for you—

quadriga racing next to which
men on a grecian urn
dance and fuck in the arse

what can you do
they're happy
that is all

anatomy's no match for poetry
and so  i yearn to counterfill
your face with flattery  and here

our backs are asymptotes
as we lie  forgive each other
a mutual madneſs

when i feel "sad
i take much phrenological delight
in the broadest part of your proboscis

you read my poems literally
then ask for exegesis
which is when the I remains

while i depart
       trick or treat! smell my farts!
 —inscribe your own destruction in your art