← v12n2, Fall 2013
Poetry · Volume 12, Number 2

It Seems Like a Poem Should Smile Wide, with Rotten Teeth 2

Yes, I’m talking about poetry.

If I had the energy, if I wasn’t bloated,

if I had shoes, if a mouse hadn’t built a home

in the loaf of bread, I’d shout hallelujah.

If my pituitary gland wasn’t a mouse

in the loaf of bread of my brain.

If I hadn’t been tricked into believing

there is a female prostate which brings

pleasure through anal stimulation.

I knew a woman with a rotten smile.

She was what the normals call fat,

part Aztec, her braid all the way down

to her vestigial tail. Hallelujah.

I’m thinking if she smiles wide enough,

the black teeth glinting like the points

of obsidian knives, it would be an event.