pink plastic house a tiny journal

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Cat Called
Jane Fleming

Dirty. Filthy.
Covered in the grease
of your sickly sweet—
deep fried
exercise of freedom of speech.

As if my dress
Could catch
The sex that you’re spewing from
that mouth that knows nothing
but the taste of
Questionable Consent.

But words can’t violate,
Right?
Words can’t penetrate
and make you scream
Like the cream that you’re offering
Between those whisky fingers.

So, yeah,
Dripping Mouth and Bloodshot Eyes,
ask that waitress whose
Ass you’ve been grabbing with
Those empty sockets
If she wants your blue veins
Instead of green cotton to fill her belly today—

Or if the jokes on you
When she frowns like she wants to
And pulls the bills from plastic
Before popping pear hips and watermelon tits
And whispering over that broken table—

Sure I’ll fuck you—
All the way out.

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Jane M. Fleming is a Ph.D. student in the Department of English at the University of Texas at Austin. She received her B.A. in English from the University of Texas at El Paso, where her heart was stolen by the Franklin Mountains. Her poetry and prose has appeared or is forthcoming in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Drunk Monkeys, Anti-Heroin Chic, Pussy Magic Magazine, and Silver Needle Press, among others. Her chapbook Ocotillo Worship is now available at APEP Publications.

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