1395: Your Dog Leash

As your Anacreon
I still say –
Keep on making
common mistakes

Dear Philomedes
do not let them
now burden you
with their regrets

They will pull on you
like my sculpting string –
binding you – stinking –
buried in another’s bed

stuck between sex work
and rattled corporate travel –
amid that hot seethe
in their holy places

Admit your error –
as it is if their praise
Your family are your enemy
by those cries of pain

found in child birth’s
one-sided game
It was handed down
by your foul-mouth mother

who uses the N-word
far too freely
I will not write out
her sparkling excuses

I seek my pleasures –
no had-I-wist words –
before a rogue seed
takes my ill-held throat

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