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Dead Girl Gang Bang

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Though I can’t recall your last name

now, Howie, I’ve been penciling myself in
  to your way back then, way back
when, in your gangbangland, she was

  loose and gone, struggling up on a limb
to raise herself off from your bed, but lost,
fell back, let the all of you in again. Said
  just trying to get out your room

was no use since she’d got her own
self in. Curbside-mind, I venture

you are still alive. Wondering what she’d
    think of that, but, then, I don’t

know, can a ghost think when its body’s shot
  itself in the head? Hell, just thinking about
it makes me wish I were dead. Just

some girl, you, then you letting your friends

shovel their coal-selves up into her, just some
   person. I knew. Her mother’s now offering
a twenty-percent discount for crystal

  healing therapy on her website. In high school,
she was a calm mother, dull job as telephone
operator, back in that town her dead
    daughter and I always swore we

   would leave, back in that town dead to me,

and me, I marry a man who mocks
    me for crying. We-we-we, he calls out,

snickering in the gloom. Yet still I wear the dead
    girl’s perfume. And I’ve got an accident
to report. Because it was all our centers,

uninvited, you rucked up inside, then bade your
friends park their reeking selves in the garage
of her feminine. What did you call it


back then? You balding fuck, you’ve forgot.
  Sloppy seconds. Forgot her slippage, eyes dead
drunk spirals, face some fluid spilling down
your sheets. I’ve been where she’s been,

and I can be where you are now, switch my hips,
  sashay into your office to see you any day now,
wearing her perfume. What pack animal
would you choose to be in your next life?


Every day, the marsupial clouds grow

   hungrier for our reunion, the reunion I’ve been
packing for all my life. There is a swing set

and a girl in a dress who doesn’t know about this
next. First, she’s pretty. Finally, she’s done for.
   So I took some pills to forget I knew you last
as friend. Then I learned the ways of your wiles,
how you did my girl who’s now dead in.

Source: Poetry (February 2015)

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This poem originally appeared in the February 2015 issue of Poetry magazine

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Dead Girl Gang Bang

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