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May 24, 2013 | Poetry

4 Poems

Kendra Grant Malone

4 Poems photo

 

After a Late Night Outcall (Creepy Enough to Care)

my feet are so warm
I shouldn't have worn
my felt boots
I didn't mean to be drunk
I'm a dull woman
these days
it's just
I was trying to earn
a hearty tip
by peeing on him
so I drank all the wine
and now
going home
I feel those eyes on me
on the J to Halsey at
1:04 am
those eyes that see my sway
and that look of
make up I'm wearing
they see my nice outcall
clothes
we are not hard to spot
if you are creepy
enough to care
I feel those eyes
and I see those eyes
and you can all stuff
150 dollars in my
pocket for looking so hard
when all I want
is to rest
I won't tell you where
I hide the cash on my body
but I will tell you
if you mug me
you will never, never
find it

 

My Closest Friend Is Someone Who Is a Lot Like Patrick Bateman

tonight
oddly enough
the person who
is comforting me
who is telling me
who is winning
the game
between the
yankees and
the twins
is the man
who pays me
to
talk to him
on the phone
about killing
his mother
and surprisingly
its not so bad
he just said
im a yankees fan
and i said
oh well
and tomorrow
will be okay
im sure of it
he just said
i should be licking
your asshole right now

and i said lol
while watching the
game, thats
the life

and he said
hell yeah

 

Pomegranate Seeds

i remember
once
when i was
a kid
being in a
grocery store
with my mother
and i saw
a pomegranate
and i wanted it

my mother
she told me
about
when she was
young in
minnesota
she and her
friend would
buy pomegranates
and delicately
with deep consideration
they would eat the
meat
and spit
the seeds
because they
did not know
you can eat
the seeds

in the grocery
store
my mother
bought me
the pomegranate
and i took it home
and up to my room
and ate the meat
but not the seeds

i always thought
she was trying to
tell me something
more with that story
but unfortunately
i was never
clever enough
to figure it out

 

Pumpernickel
(Love Poem for Nicole)

it was the
second time I went
to goldfinger’s
to see you dance
I think your name was rose
then

it was a slow wednesday
so you had the dj
play gimme shelter
and you stood in front of me
on the bar
twisting hips
and your little wrists
in a way
that indian women
wearing saris would do
but you were in a
neon pink lycra bikini
there was no money
to be made that
night
so you just romanced
me like only you can
do
up there
on that stage

and did you know
I never throw out
food any more?
and I sweep our
kitchen everyday
while you eat in
another one in
california

and when people
talk about that
particular German bread
I don't think of napoleon's
horse anymore
I just think of
how much you
liked my stories

 

image: Andromeda Veach


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