The
Red Series
by Suzanne Frischkorn |
Author's Links |
i. The Next Day she meditates crimson thighs. Please she begs her uterus-- shake the comfort of its flesh. I promise, I promise, beats her tongue like an insistent cock. ii. Peony My husband hands his fever over as if he slit open a woman to reveal a yellow spray-- warm, firm, and infinite. I whisper through wax red petals, I am not your mother. iii. Sales Pitch at the Lipstick Counter "Essential Pedestrian Red," she said sincerely. Language falls through music, beat raw this time, smears women over. |
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