December 31, 2009


The smell of rotting fishguts
curls up from filthy hulls
like old humiliations.

Spilled menstrual blood.
Sour vomit-stink on carpet.
Take-out gone rancid
in a stuffy single room.
Flop sweats
after the flop.

Leave it all behind, honey,

leave it all behind, this
roadkill unraveling
from spinning tires,

painting a ragged red routeline
to future destinations
and fresher fish.

November, 2009. Portland, ME.

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