Poem of the Month - September 2024

She was a cutie
Young, hot and had an extraordinary appetite for sex
She knew her way around my body and knew what I enjoyed
There was just one problem...
She had a disgusting habit of frequently and repeatedly gnawing on her skin
Most of the time it was her cuticles or her hand
The area would become red & raw
Many times the affected area would bleed
She had a disease called Dermatophagia
In the beginning of our time together it wasn't bad
After several months her hands looked like someone cut & chopped her skin up with a small blade or knife
It was to the point that I encouraged her to seek help or wear gloves when we were together
I didn't want her mangled hands all over my body or member
Gross!!
She eventually became more self aware and began gnawing on her arms, her ankles and once tried to bite me!
I told her this relationship isn't going to work
She began to get upset & cry
I explained that I could try & help with this issue
She smiled and was full of joy
I used a new pair of cooking scissors and cut off her left ear
It took a few moments
I told her, chew on your ear and stop ruining your hands
She was in pain but understood and appreciated me helping her out
Were still together, minus two ears, part of her cheek & nose

It's a little chilly.
Tacos, making me feel things.
A lot of spicy green things.
Tomatoes.
Burnin' up the weak things.
I see the ceiling.
Falling through the floor.
Just a weakling.
On a tour, in the evening.
Burnt to the core.
These cacti keep stinging.
Born again.
The bells are ringing.
Cronos swallowed.
Can't stop drinking.
I'm off the wall.
A little green thing.
Satan called.
Thought I was dreaming.
Gave it my all.
This mountain is beaming.
No more balls.
Just receiving.

she came
out tonight,
her breast
of youth
and glowing
charms
exposed
to the
ghost-white
threshold
of a
full moon
 
with soft
but sure
voice and
subtle hands,
her
incantations
whirled in
the  
wide-eyed
mist,
dancing
like
an open
fire of
quivering
flames.
 
 
 

In a rustic western bar nestled in the heart of Oklahoma City, the night was in full swing. Wooden floors, worn smooth by countless boots, creaked softly under the weight of the evening crowd. A country guitar hummed in the background, providing a comforting soundtrack to the low buzz of conversation and laughter. The air was thick with the scents of aged whiskey and fried food, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room.

At the far end of the bar, a young woman named Sarah, barely in her twenties, perched on a stool. She wore a modest dress and carried an air of innocence that seemed out of place in the bar's seasoned atmosphere. Her skin was fair, and her shoulder length hair flowed gracefully down each side of her round-cheeked face. A coffee rested in her hand, and every so often, her eyes darted to the door with a look of guilt in her eyes. She’d made a last-minute decision to stop into this bar that she’d driven past many times on her way home from school where she was studying elementary education.

Beside her, leaning with casual ease against the bar, was Jake—a man of about thirty-five with a smile that could disarm. He'd been sharing small talk with Sarah, trying to coax her out of her shell with his smooth talk and easy confidence.

Finally, he decided to confront the hesitation he sensed in her. "You know, Sarah," Jake said, his voice as casual as his posture, "life's too short to be spent in constant worry about what we should and shouldn't do. I’ve made mistakes in my past but all in all, it’s been a good life.”

Sarah turned to him, her expression a blend of curiosity and caution. "I was raised to believe that every decision we make matters in the eyes of God. That we should live righteously..." She blushed at her boldness. Her voice was soft, reflecting the depth of her conviction.

Jake nodded, showing a flash of understanding. “That’s admirable, Sarah. You’re a good girl and I can respect that.”

Sarah blushed. “It feels strange to be in here and I have friends who’d be horrified to see me in here but it’s nice. People have been nice to me.”

Jake studied Sarah’s hands cupping her coffee. They were soft and natural like the hands of a child. Her nails weren’t acrylic like he normally saw on women. Hell, he thought, there’s no acrylic anywhere on this pretty girl.

He reached out and pointed at the ring she wore. "That's a beautiful ring. Where'd you get it?"

"My daddy gave it to me when I went to college," Sarah said.

"That's sweet. He must love you a lot," Jake said growing quiet.

After a long pause, Jake put down his glass and turned to Sarah. “For me this place is sort of like a church. I confess my sins to old Joe there behind the bar and his lips are sealed. Then I meet up with friends here for fellowship. Sometimes I run into an angel,” he said looking directly at Sarah.

Sarah laughed and looked away. “Oh, I’m no angel.”

“Well, you look like an angel to me,” Jake said tapping her forearm lightly. “Just checking to see if you’re real,” he said with a smile.

Sarah drew the coffee to her thin lips and took a sip, feeling the warmth in her mouth. She saw herself in the mirror behind the bar and thought to herself, I am pretty, just like my daddy used to say. He always called her his little angel and she remembered how he cried when she went down to profess her faith one Sunday morning. Tonight, that time seemed so long ago.

She whispered, “Only ten years ago.”

“Only ten years ago?” Jake questioned.

“Oh nothing, I was just remembering something that seemed long ago, but it was only ten years."

Jake just looked at her and then took another sip of his beer. “Yep. Life flies by fast.”

They both sat quietly for a minute and Sarah felt strangely close to Jake, like he wasn’t that different from the people she grew up around.

The music stopped and Jake leaned in close to Sarah, his voice dropping to a whisper that held the weight of a secret. "What pleasure would it give the Almighty if you were righteous? What would he gain if your ways were blameless?"

The words struck a chord within Sarah. She must have heard them read during her childhood. Her eyes widened as she remembered sitting quietly staring at the stain glassed windows.

Jake, sensing her inner conflict, pressed on with a gentle urgency. “That was from Job when he was struggling a long time ago. We're all just passing through, Sarah. One day, we'll both return to the dust from which we were created. We need to enjoy the limited time you have in life. I think God would approve.”

The bar seemed to fall silent, the patrons' laughter and chatter dimming as if waiting for Sarah's response. She sat motionless, the struggle between her upbringing and the temptation of Jake's words playing out in her gaze.

After a long moment, Sarah stood up, her decision clear in her determined face. She took a deep breath, her beauty and virtue still evident, but now there was a spark of boldness in her eyes. "Maybe you're right, Jake.”

Jake extended his hand with a knowing smile, which Sarah took, her palms moist and warm. Together, they headed toward the exit. As Jake opened the door and held it for her, she walked through, as if leaving behind the familiar confines of her old beliefs. Tonight would be a time of discovery.

The bar door closed behind them, and the music picked up once more. The story of Sarah and Jake would be added to a long list of couples who’d found each other in this little neighborhood place of worship and celebration.