Susan Slaviero

A glimpse of skinstatic

I crush against the webcam’s

eye, playing grabass

with my own hands.

I’m the liquid crystal fuck

your wife doesn’t know about.

Just a dildodream in a peekaboo

bra; I call this page

calicokitty’s barelylegal.

With my bubblegum lips,

I’m better than any pill

for erectile dysfunction,

or acid reflux.

I’ll be your digital pet, I’ll call you

daddy, stuffing your synapses with

orgasm, and other simulacra

in fidgety sequences.

Thanatos seeks a playmate

Susan Slaviero

She’s his type,

that oviparous female

sucking gimlets from martini glasses

with her pillbox hat, naked ankles—

she’s a Jocasta complex, a wild

womb sipping liquor through

her sticky Revlon lips.

Last week, it was the soft

butch girl he met

at the lesbian bar—he changes

his taste in women

every time he visits

that necrophiliacs’ website.

His mantel is lined

with broken dolls

their plastic legs splayed

in a parody of middle-of-the-road

porno, where foxtoothed

men only watch, stroking

their own cocks

with waxed fingers.

Susan Slaviero is a poet & editor living in a sleepy midwestern suburb. Sometimes she writes poems about pornography. (Or, perhaps she writes pornographic poems. She can't really be sure.) Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in journals like Sein und Werden, Lamination Colony, ECTOPLASMIC NECROPOLIS, Zygote in My Coffee, and others. She co-edits the online lit zine blossombones