Friday, June 05, 2009

paste dish washer of the skty



Mona 's been diswasher of the sky. Washer of vassal and feud. her button was sef to its turf. her mouth untied to every fueled guild. Her captial gaining everry day. her trading skills wide and known. her cover's cap a militant fox for the doubters of time.


Crockery was mockery
and hicky dockery clock walk.
So she mumbled
her
grammar and clamour.
Her vaisselle is la belle amie.








____________ She washed her arm. A scullery woman a tub gleamer. A dirty floor polisher. She knew this was way to become her beyond.

Not a lday on pills she was hip to each changing caliber of her body.

If it came to tableware she was glittering with Betty page and her sadomasochistic relief. She knew it was that lave les vaiselles was her elles beyond belles lettres. So hill and lake and the pent up grief. her visage tiny love.