by Rebecca Lu Kiernan
My kitchen is Gucci Butter Rum Tart.
I was fractured that day
And money didn't get in the way
$19 a can extra
For walls I would always want
To give a slow, wiggling lick.
Sometimes when I am in an apron
Beating the hell out of a bovine
Who did me no wrong,
I remember the married man
With the charisma of a cult figure,
With the tantric sex and pearl Jaguar,
The art studio behind his office,
The smug one who specialized
Who dipped his cock
In multiple vaginas
Like so many exotic paints
Feathering his graying existence
With various degrees of shadow,
Stroking his violet sky
With progressive categories of storm.
He could never have painted people.
He could never have gotten
©2002 by Rebecca Lu Kiernan
Rebecca Lu Kiernan's fiction and poetry have appeared in Asimov's Science Fiction Magasine, Ms. Magazine, North American Review, Space and Time, Gargoyle, and other magazines and books in the United States and Australia. Her collection of poetry, Sex With Trees and Other Things Equally Responsive was published by 2 River Press. Canada's Ygdrasil will soon dedicate an issue to the presentation of her new collection, The Man Who Remembered Too Much. She edits the print literary, Gecko, and lives on the Gulf Coast with her spunky chocolate labrador, Rocky.