Tonight's Poet Corner: Sissy
Sissy by Belinda Roddie Hey, dreary, weary, top-heavy, bottom-swollen sissy boy, let's play pogo stick with your ego and wait to see your manhood quake between your twig thighs like a loose splinter. Let's take off your shirt and expose the fleshy rivulets up and down your caved in waistline. Trace the cracks and fissures like we're reading a dead palm. Curve our fingers against the knobbly Adam's apple until we can stroke the boyish stubble while we giggle, giggle, pretending we want to kiss you when all we want to do is prod you like sad, soggy, chemical-soaked clay. Don't cry. Crying's for sissies. Didn't your daddy tell you that over exoskeletons caught in amber melting into a V-neck, unsnapping the eel from the salty hip and cutting an X below your jaw? Because when you cry, we lick the hot lava from your charred face, watching you tumble, tumble, tumble against our hands and wrap your arms around yourself three times to