Thursday, October 31, 2013



by Avery Taylor

Lot’s Wife scrapes the fuzz off
and eats it.

Remember Lot’s Wife.

Hands steepled over a ketchupy breakfast,
head bent in prayer, or hangover.
Succubus, sandpiper, Woman of Men.

Remember Lot’s Wife.

Lady dressed in silk and cotton,
jeweled and deflowered, 34D
and sneezes into the crease of her elbow.

Remember Lot’s Wife.

To me she resembles a trapped thing,
a wild animal chewing off its own foot
that learns to love the taste of its own blood.

Remember Lot’s Wife.

Lot’s Wife cleans her teeth with her fingernail,
“It could use a little salt.”

Gotta go.
-Avery Jalaine


Oh thanks. You're pretty.