Danielle Pafunda

from The Desire Spectrum is Dead to me Now

What bone have you been sucking on?

I’m wearing a bonnet, with holes
cut out for my holler husks. A pinafore
over my ragged gut.

I go to the dancehall and already
the weep boy is at the podium
weeping.

The microphone sizzles.

The audience wants to know
how he gets into such tight pants.
They measure him with a tube of lubricant
and a tether; river stones carved
to such likeness, they become actual bear flesh.

Reek.

He has brought a date on microfiche.
On DVD. He has brought a date
via text message. The message says
fU lil’ 1s. It says gimme back my
$$$. Lit, it also sparks, and fails.

I’d lone it. I’d rather
gristle on my lonesome.