Peter Oberman

As a memorandum
to your
passion,
and a
spectacle
to your lustre.

one last resounding shot,

It was deflowered by the truth,

and is kept satisfied by lies.

They steal away your v i r t u e ,
and replace it all
with

GREED.

I’m blind to your arrogance.

Turtle doves bring sheltered lust,
and tie down their rose-petal inhibitions,
with cultured pearl thread.

Tsk. Tsk. No apricots for you, silly Kookaburra.

all the way to my constant

and decelerating heart.

your beau,

your betrothed.

rose-petal inhibitions

p r e t t y l i t t l e m o u t h ,

Lusting baby catbirds,
in a mock-orange world.
Lacing love with arsenic,
to get a sugar-plum high.

Pity me with mannequin smiles,
plastered on your beatified face.

The ones you t e l l me about,
in every stolen g l a n c e in my direction,

A tattered piece of bloody lace,
twirled around a former lover’s finger.

lay me down to bed.

Your ten dollar hooker love won’t C U T the diamond-fly cocaine lines anymore.

ruby-fly lipstick style…

c l o c k w o r k
fingers

r a z o r b l a d e . . . kiss.