Alice Munro,
Make me a normal deviant.
Pretty please.

the dalliance,
with the enemy,
the skin

that tightens on my bones
when I think of you. And I think of you.

Ms. Munro,
to play the palate
of the Pilate;
I let the mud
percolate through
your scuffed fingers,
then offer you to wipe them
on the back of my skirt.

Palate plate appetite(-tight)
As bad as Bulgakov’s Master.
As eager as Margarita
to see her marriage
on your heel.

we all want to be bad sometimes.


Gripe here!

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