The Jane Sonnet

[1]


Bar hair and Atari hands in tow, I come to you to gurgle,

Foment, curtsy, and blow. Never my love has so difference

Been sexy. Never my bowery blue movie frau, has it hurt

Quite so brightly. Saying it won’t sever it. Seven times

The rod is cast, seven times it comes back bloody. Seven

Maids and merman barking up the tree of wine and ash.

Far alone searching. Backspace. Omit. Can you trace the fabulary

Back to its source. Can you make a riverboat from keyboard

Shavings and water-based lubricant. Can your bed of seven

Histories sear hot enough to remind my belly of war, to impress

Upon your golden calves the etching of my name rendered

In syllables too hot and too embarrassing to read aloud? If

And if it can, your fight is mine. Place your crotch against

My empty wall. Rub away the fogged window. Lurch. Howl.