string by faith mingus
​
like a bean, like a bushel of brothels frequented by our brothers,
fathers, lovers,
along; like every sam said to his firstborn: begone, begone with you, bloke,
...........................................blathersworth,
kite-monger, clever cadaver: dead to me…
the twine we wrap around a pinky to remind ourselves of dead petunias,
raped onions,
impregnated cats – out with the kittens - clawgnaw the pinky string
off in their rush to endear themselves