Susanna Gutierrez
And then- there will be heat
My throat is irritated in a red hot mess.
My legs immovable, like there were 10 clinched fists in my thighs.
My stomach feels like there is a huge fisherman’s knot protruding from the insides of my abdominal wall.
My eyes ready to close, but this poem won’t let me; the dark sagging flesh underneath them reveals all my carousing with the vampire dream killer.
I’m cursing at the wind 10 times
Over these cold winter mornings.
In an icicle cave, I’m like a hangman with a rope around my neck and my tongue won’t go back in; all the while my body remains twisted like a pretzel.
(poet will perform a raspberry noise with the tongue while reading the last line)
This “Sunshine” State blows!
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