PREY BETTER PRAY
Next time that corner man
say, Smile, girl! remember the vast
majority of predatory mammals
show
teeth
as a warning. Next time a gas
station attendant asks what you got
to be so sad about, you go on,
stretch on that beauty queen grin,
Vaseline thick as thighs
on those canines ’cause
they oughta know
prey
better
pray. I been told
too many times, there ain’t nothing
to be sad about, what I got
to be depressed for, anyway?
What’s wrong? You ain’t got
no man? I could make you
smile so good or you one
of them stuck-up bitches think
you better than all this?
Got a home, a hot little ass,
could have ’em crawling
on them thin-skinned bellies
like salamanders if I’d wanna. Little miss,
you could be
so pretty
if you tried. Try
and know this: they’re asking
for it, all of ’em. Go on then,
show ’em, spread out
all
you
got—
that good stuff, that sharp stuff
clean ’n’ glistening on the velvet.
Glint Literary Journal 