plums

he likes to eat bright spectacle —
shiny lolly beads and glitter
flattery his meal-ticket
fat and blood-smeared feathered lips
smack and smirk and masticate
broken wings that elevated
stripped back now to ligature
flaccid organs feed on limp
powder puffs and pumping veins
pimp of shame he covets sweet
wine from wounds of sorrow’s rivers
pouring streams down rounded cheeks
carving outlines of lithe bodies
lying numb for him to seek
his gloves are off and fingers in
pokes them deep and pulls out plums
eats them ripely one by one

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