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Date Posted: 14:18:56 01/22/02 Tue
Author: Porthos
Subject: Three Short Poems

Dad is Fucking a Woman in Iowa

A perfect row of small manicured trees.
Leaves a brilliant hue of red, fighting the autumn wind.




Uncertainty

The skin tightens and folds as the muscles in her face contract.
Her tear duct, a glassblower, creating a small crystalline orb that gently grows
Before plunging down the seam where her nose meets her cheek.




One of Those Cry for Help Things

Steel meticulously parts the fleshy cell masses
Liberating crimson rivers that ebb and flow
And draw a smile from a solitary figure.

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