Pablo The Bullet

Poem 20 ±

we are a county called
Never Knew Better
you are King
happy I know
this our counsel
our kitchen table
pass me the needle
don't splash blood
rig in my pocket -- even at the airport
steal me the money -- I am your girl
pull out my eye
cut the phone wires
this is together
call me Don't Care
I am contagious
who owes who anything
choke me harder
my gilded bullet
I'm on your edge
both feet bleeding
yank me back up
your hands are filthy
you rotting corpse
I wasn't ready
my worsening luck
I don't believe in
any 9 to 5ing
any House of Jesus
roll of the die
you took the wheel
bled into me
somewhere there is whistling
my stomach sinks
each early April
I am floating
towards you

Abigail Frankfurt writes, "I am a writer living in NYC. I lost my partner to AIDS in 2008. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him."