“Beast”

it is not
their yellow eyes
that drain me
of my courage

their bristling hair
I pay no mind
I care not for
their snarling lips
or razor’d teeth
or hot, foul breath
their claws
that rake the earth
I see
and give a careless shrug

their spike’d tails
with poisoned barbs
that stop the heart
in seconds

they might as well
have tails of silk

no

what gives me
cause to dread
is that
I stand
among them
comfortably
as if I am at home
I touch my teeth
my finger bleeds
and I’ve a snarl
all my own

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“Sweatshop”

I’m washing dishes
and hating
every minute of it
hating it
hating it
hating it
hating
the way
there’s just
so many of them
when all we did
was re-heat
fucking leftovers
and
hating
the way
my back aches
(my scoliosis, I have
scoliosis, you know,
so my back has to work
much, much
harder
than your average back)
oh yes
and hating
the way
my knees lock
because
I don’t like
to bend
my knees
for an entire dish-washing
period because
it makes me feel
like
I’m going
to take
a shit
at any moment
being
in this semi-squat
state
my bowels
get confused
and they think, “Oh!
We’re very relaxed
right now. Let’s
do this!”
and I don’t want
to shit
myself
at the kitchen sink
so
I bend my back
instead
of my knees
which
I know
is bad
for both
back and knees
but there you go)
So you see
why I hate
doing dishes
and I see
a small pot
that has
MADE IN CHINA
stamped on the bottom
and I think
I should
probably
just
shut
the fuck
up.