Arm reliquary, c. 1230, the Cloisters at the Met
bunny museum
in line at airport security, a fat older man’s penis catches my eye. he is wearing gray
sweatshorts and i can see the outline of his soft shaft and balls. his balls are bigger than his
penis and something about it reminds me of
a bunny tail.
a plaque in the museum reads bunnies are the symbol of fertility
another plaque reads bunnies are a symbol of virginal purity
i think about how i call every woman in my life ‘bunny’ as a term of endearment and wonder if
there’s been a subliminal reason this whole time. i’m horny now
and everything is ruined.
i think about my girlfriend
pink and blonde with complicated eyes. the other night
i said to her, you’ve never hurt a single person. she said, yes i have.
i said, well you can still be a good girl even if you’ve hurt people.
she said, you’re weird...
the playback as the grift
if i’m the boy i don’t care how
much you make. i’ll pay
because i’m the boy
ready to remind the girl
ready to burn body
readymade burner phone on
do not disturb me. little cuck man
with yale professor parents
crying wolf to the fentanyl fuzz,
don’t make me remind you. i care
for what i do for love
getting sick in my polly pocket purse,
ring around my nosey.
maggie gyllenhaal as secretary starring
as you slapping my silicone heart
on, screaming silicone trachea bubbling
up to lick your skirt's hem like an envelope.
forgiveness breeds betrayal and extortionate sleeps with discontent slithering for space, nibbling on its rotting tail because it smells good at the foot of the messy bed you weren’t supposed to make it
Riley Mac is a poet, bartender and dyke from South Jersey - but currently lives in Brooklyn with her dog Dandy. She loves hosting poetry readings and having a good time.