- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Who is Imogene?
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Imogene cringes from the ash
and ground-out-butt smell. Even where he hangs heavy,
it lingers. Imogene is a simmered oil,
reed diffuser, lit wick kind of woman —
a little bit of a fuss
she is.
Imogene brought death to his freezer.
Drove her chemical stakes through frozen
(oh, you know) hearts.
Imogene is bad. She discovers things,
the way she slips on ice.
Accidentally.
Discovery 1:
Bottles of sad diamonds.
[Interruption]
Skin.
Violaceous rounds are darling in pain and kill
the blue diamonds. Her dire moans,
twisted beautiful-side out,
now slide down his throat,
to swell and leave the tip aloft.
[/Interruption]
Then she finds manic
female letters. She understands
those words, frenetic like her own carvings,
blood communications,
slit screams of relief.
Who is Imogene?
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copyright d. dixon
2008
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- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 15 years agofor me it's a toss up between someone lost in death, or lost in love. lost and totally forgotten, seeing and hearing all, but unable\unwilling to help anyone.
