I will make you
my let-down song; so that when
you are stuck in my head—
I am sitting on the edge
of swimming pools my feet
in the water, the water going red.
it’s not blood—don’t worry,
this is not another sadistic, sardonic
poem. it is only pink
nail polish, melting in the water,
melting off my feet.
I am a teenage virgin, drinking pink
lemonade, pretending
that I am a vampire drinking
you.
You are boiling in me—
you are the sadist.
my heart is in vessel knots,
the angel cake coming back up
in the toilet,
the lemonade spilling
pink and red
down my neck.
the last pavilion 