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A Shotgun Life
Poems by Amye Archer
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Excerpts
Ex
I am not your ex
I am your "former"
An ex will lose
jobs
drink too much
embarrass you in public
insist that you've slept
with everyone you meet.
An ex will
curse in front of your mother
drink all of your beer
sell your shit
when you aren't home.
An ex will
say they are going
to Wal-Mart
and come home pregnant.
When you refer to me
which I wish you wouldn't—
I am your former.
Rogue
I am in the shower
when I notice her.
The foaming soap
washed away
to reveal a traitor.
a blue black squiggle—
a purple snake—
a vein—
popped to the
top
branding my thigh.
She is rogue
broken away from
the maternal tattoos
clustered together
like a pack
of worms
devouring
my young corpse
mapping their route
up the back of my legs.
dead cell battery
Rain drops are pounding on my roof
like the pitter pat of wet fat feet
falling off the edge of the earth.
The leak in my exhaust gurgles and burps
like my newborn babies stuffed
and saturated with artificial milk.
my slightly deflated tires lick and grip
against the slick saturated street
like the thump of heavy weighted feet
.
maybe I should be alone with my thoughts more:
House flippers are destroying the middle class.
Mick Jagger is old but I would still sleep with him.
I should write a poem about this.
Purchase A Shotgun Life here.
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