Pig

by Zipporah Stankovich


Clutching bed sheets,
heartbeat deafening;
muffling the sounds of
the last train to Century Park –
whispers of my lover float
above my head,
and between my legs

Blood pumps unevenly,
flowing straight to the
fingertips;
leaving my hands numb,
lost, dead, flopping
over the sides of my bed

The creases in my belly
(disgusting pig gut)
mock my posture –
and the spots on my face
mock my shapeless body

But you still love me so,
only you
and my soul remains warm,
unchanged and untouched,
confused in this ugly corpse,
this filthy pile of fat and bones
growing and bulging like a cancer

I keep it safe, just for you –
you lovely, blind fool
I promise;
when are skin meets once more,
palm against palm,
I’ll be beautiful again

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