Devin Pugliano

devin pugliano – tubercular borghild

she remarked, “i’ve a cap gun soul,
with drugs to raise & children to swallow.”
she had the foresight of an asian paunch,
sucking off a muster roll.

we blushed the fire.

she’d strip,
so the stones would better stick.
an ego that would seizure like ridge rope.
never descrying her gods uproot beside her.
her wounds didn’t bleed, they spoke.

from birth to eulogy,
she made words spread like debris.
cancer cells in a clean sweep.
bookending her lies with apologies.
making a martyr of herself,
and a jester of me.

Leave a Comment so far
Leave a comment