By: Phil Carson
Reine de l’Acool, My Queen
Southern Comfort. Beautiful,
Naked, mute, & motionless.
Many place their lips on yours
& drink of your delights. Passionate
Fiery embrace, an unequal encounter.
My hands to your neck, My Queen.
My lips to yours, eyes closed. Not desire,
A hostage chained to insatiable thirst.
Recovering consciousness, my face down
In your sloppy juices I paint G-O-D on the table.
I marvel at the sight of your empty figure.
Reine de l’Acool, my queen.
Southern Comfort. Sickening,
Empty, shrill, & whirling.
Phil graduated from University of Oregon with a Comparative Literature Major and Creative Writing minor. Phil currently is a first year MFA student at Eastern Oregon University and participated in this years Fishtrap events.
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