GI Distress

dog2

Don’t be stoopid. It’s not me—

definitely you.

 

1.

Shush, now.

I know

break-ups are rough. Tough like

 

Rawhide.

Ever watch a dog chew on processed cow skin?

That shit’s indigestible; causes intestinal

swelling and diarrhea, etcetera.

 

Funny,

some relationships are (un)just

over-sized break-ups in-waiting,

glazed with meat flavoring for optimal taste.

 

2.

I used to lounge with you

outside in the summer dark.

Under the stars,

we’d swig bottles of Miller Lite

and inhale Marlboro tobacco;

two Alphas trying

to cancel each other out.

 

3.

Shush.

That’s a goddamned lie.

I

never had int’rest

in your use-less

competition.

Now you howl by yourself,

wondering

who will clean up your vomit.

 

It’s not me—

definitely you.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

Potato Salad and Pastrami

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Saw your face today at the supermarket;

you watched me under the counter and

over the mustard

potato salad.

Oh! How far you’ve come;

I should say thanks for spitting down my throat.

Thanks for the lies, babe;

for nothing is truer than venom.

You never did have the intention of making me an

honest woman.

It’s been years, but still you burn me;

my reputation smolders,

and I see the smoke in their eyes.

 

I’ve been forgiven, but not forgotten.

 

I hate you,

but I’ll take a half pound of your pastrami.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

Arbor Brewing Co.

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I had a boyfriend, once,

an artist—

he introduced me to Ray LaMontagne

and Wilco…

he worked at Disney for a while, or so he said.

 

He was an artist, and I was a writer, and

the two of us smashed together.

 

If you read this, Tyler Aaron Travis,

(a name I will remember for forever)

I want to thank you for saying

I’m the best indie writer you’ve ever known.

                                         

And I will never forget our first date at the

Arbor Brewing Company.

Do Soulmates Even Exist?

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When will I find the one?

That’s what people wandering wonder;

they worry over love, and finding their soulmate,

never considering that

we are capable of loving many

over a lifetime, and

sometimes

all at once.

 

My heart is full to swelling,

and I wish it wasn’t

because it makes it

harder to be true to the one that

I want to be the one

 

The one

I see myself bound to for eternity.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Pinterest)

Chordae Tendineae

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Pluck me a melody from the sinews of your heart—

be mine

own Orpheus; private poet,

sing me your soul.

Tell me you’ll give me adoration, heavy—

more than mine arms can carry,

plus.

 

I promise I will dance for you like

Eurydice,

cherished wife.

 

I promise I will strip for you like

prostitutes do,

but for the low, low price of

one true sweetheart.

 

Pluck me a melody from the sinews of your heart

when I wake up bathing

in mine

own vomit, cos I gone and done it

again—

got stupid

over the love of a lyre.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Wikipedia)

Viscera in Danger (revamp)

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Their need is visceral. Oh!

Pretty blonde girl,

fresh trailer park trash,

junkyard dogs snarl and quarrel over your flesh—

tongues wag to get at your bones.

Twelve years old, and

your marrow is aromatic.

 

Mother’s a full-time drunk, and you

only got a part-time daddy.

 

Good luck, babe;

welcome to Contaminated Manor.

Find your place in the Court somehow

without

letting them taste you.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Pinterest)