Two Poems

Self-Portrait Grade 12

ck one, bus tickets, some mother’s car, frozen orange juice crystals

spooned into the slim neck of a vodka bottle, bomb scar

shiny, taut on the shoulder of one boy

another boy’s

penthouse

inside of which I

was a tourist, passing

and these boys aren’t full even: stuttering, wet, timid

with control.

and these boys strum, nod, elasticate, convince,

bury, these boys drum kits in their nose hairs

freshly beaten asses waving to a tender vancouver night from

a white convertible, expletives fingered in dust, okay?

the boys sat treasuring, malignant, filing cabinets full

one year younger

one lap around the block, me “holding” their cigarettes

a drag is three, buzzed from one drag, thanks you can

have it back

Self-Portrait with Tracey Emin's Tower Drawings

tower drawing 4[tab25]Sometimes a woman is an ant[/tab25]

[tab45]eater is a mole, has paws, prays at a[/tab45]

[tab45]crystalline tower.[/tab45]

tower drawing 7 Is she blowing smoke?

[tab45](Am I? Do you?)[/tab45]

A mirage of a big-boobied lady?

[tab45]Is she led by string?[/tab45]

[tab45]Is she leashed by[/tab45]

[tab45]loops of[/tab45]

[tab45]dark blue drool?[/tab45]

tower drawing 3 It’s perfect

[tab45]the length of the human arm.[/tab45]

[tab45]Today my[/tab45]

[tab45]pussy is a butterfly.[/tab45]

tower drawing 27 A belly pregnant is so perfect it must stop.