Down-Low Dane

Poem By ToddMichael St. Pierre

she manages
to have someone...
(SCARCE is her word)
firm is her grasp
he pulls her close
hot venom sweet
joy-slithering
like Cleo's asp
this afterlife
of neverlands
and promises
once made to me
by serpent same
on distant bed
when i believed
his eyes like she
i understand
the afterthoughts
of aftershave
and safety found
his scarf of gray
and burgundy
the after-bliss
that hangs around
yet time betrays
the dream devout
as snakes are charmed
and uncharmed fast
still i see you
in lavender
gray Easter skies
all overcast
i recognize
the aftermath
the sucker-punch
the 'last-2-know'
1- of-many-
toys of Satan-
the after-stench
of afterglow

**it lingers...

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