Postmodern Poetry - Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

for Mary

My woman is fractured and petall’d
like everyone needs new clothes
of beautiful pinwheel anonymity
I’m just trying to feel good

while her petals sift down the air
lazy like lawlessness
Her children sleep for days
with pinched faces and hot rooms

and the sound of mowed grass
crying beneath electric scythe
Why’s it up in my grill
like that

that she’s got wisdom in her flaws
that she’s got enlightenment in
her PMS
Her rage is right and spot-on

but I’m smoke a joint and LMFAO
LMFAO all over those big empty daubs
I don’t think she’s ever slept ever
except maybe like me through our own solemn birth

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