Trailer park girl
the butterfly around your hollowed navel
spreads its wings and soars through my eyes
silver-plated love blows 30 degrees below dry-ice
my head is ripe for your destruction because
the chisel pounds because you say so, So
when I sleep the monster lays beside me with you
with you I hear painted ladies walking obscure streets,
I sense defeat as I crumble beneath your feet
your “Shh,” calms me in the dark of night
like the stir of winter fog eroding from your after sex cigarette
just as beer bottles break at the bottom of your trash can, silent
BIOGRAPHY: De La Chapa has been published here and there and is scheduled to appear elsewhere. She is a two-time Pushcart prize nominee, and a two-time recipient of an Editor's Choice. Devlin edits @ BoySlut.
