Poem By Sandy Hiss

I want to blow kisses in your tomato
soup, watch as you bite into fish crackers
soaked in my crush.

But your lady may be a problem. Hand
her a fifty and ask her to get some
Chinese takeout–Hunan style. And don’t
forget the fortune cookies.

I love the thought of licking plum sauce
from your fingertips while you read ancient
proverbs made in China that tease with
predictions of travel to foreign lands.

I don’t have a passport but I love to fly.
Crammed into dark spaces with just my mind
and a wad of chewing gum in my mouth. Makes
for interesting conversation between sips
of hot generic coffee, melting innuendos
on my curious tongue.

Do you know how that feels?

No, I suppose not, since you never looked
my way. Silently sipping amour from your
lover’s gaze.

You like the way she tastes.

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In The Pink Room

there is an iron bed. The posts
are scratched; the ivory paint
is peeling away its innocence.

The Burden Of Charisma

I watch him pull in hearts
like a fisherman harnessing his net
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Baby Doll

You left me on the shelf
to gather dust. My hair
now a crown of brown weeds
flecked with death.

Of Palms And Proposals

The waiter seated her across
from him. The handsome one,
an orchid dangling from his coat
pocket. He was like a tropical

Goldfish Eyes

She watches the world
from inside her crystal bowl,
biting off the heads of hangnails
resembling button mushrooms.

Simply Origami

He tried to rip me apart.
Attempted to rearrange me
into his bird of paradise.
Put on display in the jungle