By Aliza Abusch-Magder
Emerald rupture, to ruby, pervades
Three rings and pub tab remain, remade
That which the light touches, lush
Raw optimism: flesh flushed, affection gush
Virgin hair, never cut
Yet to see the fictive ‘fuck’
Fried fragments, pink streak
Unknown, ever inhale pique
Avril lavigne, Victoria Secret stink
The Girlfriend video of which I always think
She hates to like it when I call her baby
White lace, pink cotton, savory-sweet panties
Poking nip, prick the tit
Rotten sex, but just the pit
Sold ourselves as sluts
knowing we were mutant mutts
