by Steven Kunert
Having known the pleasures of the female body,
someday on the cusp of death I will dread
what an afterlife has been described to be.
So mix my ashes in a cocktail of a Nevada whorehouse.
Read my will at an all-girls’ school.
Put my memoir in a gynecologist’s office.
But, God, don’t put my soul up there, and please
leave the very last smidgen of my DNA on the lips
of any sweet woman still above ground.
- When A Pregnant Woman Reads the Surgeon General’s ...
- Red Light
- at the waveland, 10:23am on a tuesday
- 3:39am in the hospital lobby
- the harsh chill of death
- lessons learned
- Docile Bodies
- analysis of the ongoing war in Afghanistan
- Acid Rain
- Last poem of a decade
- Wait a minute, baby
- Last Request
- She must be
- The Dancer
- Over The Mountains And Through The Woods There Is ...
- Cheap movie
- Seasons in the uterus
- Dante and Ass
- a hard man
- AMTRAK SOUTH
- ▼ February (25)
- ► 2009 (479)