don your spider silk trousseau, indulge me
funeral hymn and devil’s perfume—
blackened, our matrimony
miasma, our vows
ever faithful i’ll be to
while you cherish my slack cock
against your thigh.
in honey light our shadows creep
as we fuck in this church van
spawn a slit-eyed bastard
meant to rule gravy train slugs
then leave it steaming—
glistening under dashboard’s light—
saw-toothed smile crooked and pure
while we murder cherubs with our rubber gloves on.
© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.