Peter Marra - One Poem

Elected to the Needles

a room.

scene 2.

bare.

light bulb.

the females rest boneless in the boudoir.

sound of nails scraping the label

off of a methadone bottle

white soiled plastic

pale stained digits

fluid orange somewhat pale

bare.

style of forgetting wanting to get there

unblinking

black feline

no opinion

surveying

food swallowed without incident

vomited back up

without pain

slow blinking

a white eye

a look down narrow

as the silence sees

watch for it. the time

that you lied for

long tall sally.

running away

a jump into a 67 mustang

that later burst into flames

(pinpricks slow skin slide)

double hand claps syncopation

jet black stylization trapped in formaldehyde

as purple grey midnight dances across her albino belly while

phantoms part her secret lips to engorge then fall back

for a rest - sated

i’ve seen them

indulging and enjoying themselves

a feast for 3 figurines

silent time

bare shaved clean

disappear into the seldom used lobby

occasionally, she was more.

the criminality,

and the dependence

and the magic

and the exciting abuse

became more widespread.

the viral application deflated

double hand claps syncopation

jet black stylization free in the oxygen

decomposition.

have a lay down on the cooling board

emotional fixation

(sentiment)

it’s the big time

The apartment door was closed tightly. There was noise in the hallway.

A smell of disinfectant from the booths down the hall permeated a science

that clung to them without a reprieve. Their lenses were cloudy and they couldn’t

see each other. Passion was eliminated and a dull sound crept up their spines.

They held hands and wished for it as they lay down on the stage – mold clingy-

framed in gilt.

Peter Marra is from Williamsburg Brooklyn. Born in Gravesend, Brooklyn, he lived in the East Village, New York from 1979-1987 at the height of the punk – no wave rebellion. He has had approximately 75 poems published in the past year.