Pink Is A Sister Sick 

with sweetness. Bright;

blinds beautiful men, robs

them of their enamel, but


they never protest.


Fat lashes fan those

flushed cheeks, like


blood blushing milk,


bones so high and hollow

beneath. Pink licks the dark,

but refuses to wear it.

I went panning for

black diamonds in her hair

in our girlhood, and found


nothing but dirty pebbles


and rust for treasure; I

couldn’t love her. She’s

a predator with doll parts,

a perfect Pinocchio gone

rogue and hungry


for boyprey.


I’ve got a perverted

prayer that in time, she’ll

dissolve into herself;

melt at midday,

nothing more

than a


discarded boiled sweet.


First published by Chris Murray at Poethead, June 2017.

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