poetry

Mousetrap

By Amy Thomson

First impression,
confession: smitten,
fangs bit in,
venom dopamine,
first serene,
then you got mean,
razor tongue cut my folly so quick,
you’re sick,
trick your prey
to come play,
I pray
you recover,
discover that
you’re prettier smiling.
Filing moments
before we were opponents,
components of misery simple.
Into your mousetrap,
bones snap,
heart slap,
they’ll lap
your lies.

 

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poetry

Trotting Mules

By Amy Thomson

Trotting mules fuel bile
while
counterfeit grins
spin
threads in my head.
Laugh at me,
I laugh on.
Come dawn,
grin wins,
charged with cheer
despite leers I sear,
whispers near
from vacuous lips more idle than
sneakers missing soles,
sneaking sideways glances into
missing souls,
I laugh on.
Emotional brawn
wrapped in eggshell,
dwelling in Plath’s bell jar,
heart tarred,
not gone,
I laugh on.