Poem 2
I'm niche and I get it.
I'm a fawn in wolf's land--
Sylvia Plath, head inside the oven;
Jesus Christ on the crucifix, praised.
Naked women and clear heels on the dirty floor
While hairy daddies are cleaning up the vomit.
Catch a glimpse of us through the window,
the window maimed and disheartened.
We catch sight of the Cliffside,
where we saw them go home.
Where did they go?
I don't remember.













