Her Mules

She’s tallying paces to renovate
her revenge body – now she is a
blithe thing – it implies she lied –
lies [she had screwed so many]
& disquiet is rising in her family
& for those near-to – ones stuck
by her sugared tricks – for fools
who breathed her sour spoor [&
who savoured her nasty spittle]
They can start to see she loved
herself [her sweaty selfishness]
& you [blinkered] hauled her cart
until turned – to see her offer out
to quicker mules [her payment in
favours – a sorbitol-coated listing]
& her chubby cousin [in her head
for thirty-ish years] on hotel beds
with men she took in confidence
& propped up in her sore head as
shafted fiction [mere echoes now]
A low cowbell pells on her loose
neck/ Running will never heal her
cellulite & other time born scars –
Good luck with repairs – you said
as lost years of hauling fell away