Vertigo.

she tucked her hair
behind her ear
like a cigarette,
waiting
in a womb
listening to
punk rock
plucking drupe
while he
finger fucked
the middle
of America
without consent
because he thinks
he’s cute.

like Sisyphus
in snakeskin boots
clicking heels
in the face of Zeus,
we can’t have cake
and eat it too…

so we’ll gnash the fruit,
and canal the root,
while we ripen rings
around a rosy bruise
ignorant of the fact
that eternity has absolutely
nothing to do with time.