Read Poem: POETRY IS MURDER, by Doug Shear

I will use you in my magic potions,
Dunk you in my cast iron cauldron
Add your long, scarlet fingernails,
Your colored curls,
Your embarrassed blood
And the slick black feathers
Of the crows I killed
And your freshly slapped cheeks
And the strap welts across your legs
Which I gave out of duty and love.
I did not kill you, of course.
But I did warn you about your pillow.
I told you it would grow addicted to your head, your thighs, your sighs,
Your begging legs, your restless breasts.
It is not my fault I fell asleep
So soundly I did not hear it creep
Over your precious face.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest