From the Bunk by Lisa LoBasso
bed you promised me I would be something
beautiful when I grew up. I haven’t
forgotten your sighs; my body shook with sliced
skin you rubbed on my bloodless skeleton.
from the bunk, you said you loved little girls
you loved me, your clammy tissue bouquet.
from the bunk, I spied your yellow and green
scars arresting your flaccid groin, women
despised and I prayed for each night as you
took my body from the pitch pink bedroom,
nibbling on my ear as you carried me,
kissing my flat chest, my smooth delicate legs.
from the bunk, you took my refrigerated soul.
and you from behind, as I ate blanket lint.
and, you from behind as I ate blanket lint.
You may see California Poet Laureate Nominee, LisaAnn LoBasso, traveling from coast to coast with too many different poetry circles. Dubbed a poetry minstrel, you'll find her reading in libraries and subways—wherever she can minister the prophetic art of poetry, or sell a book or two.