The Rub, Cathy Park Hong & Mores McWreath, 2013

I don’t wash my hands.
Armpits, asshole, crotch and teeth--
I use the same brush.

I spit out toothpaste,
Allow it to dry, scrape up--
After dinner mints.

Walk out to a field,
Moon lights the creepiest deer--
Snack on a pony.

Two deer copulate.
One turtle mounts, fails to fuck,
no seed, leather twat.

Laughtrack at tea-time.
Force down a urinal cake,
puke in a pink cup.

Got sand in the crotch!
A tire lands right on the crotch!
Jock fist in the crotch!

Just push his head down.
Push it down, push his head down,
Just push his head down.

I'm sword-swallowing.
The rock grows out of a rock.
Man on man on boy.

Guy who won’t give head
is like a damn Betamax,
like they still make you?

Girl, let me loiter
in your little oyster--but
an arm crease will do.

The dick train has passed,
Wild dogs rooting human trash,
in their mouths, tampax.

Enough with doctors,
lawyers, we need more Asians
working at Best Buy.

White people smell like
lemon pledge, cabbage, wet dog,
a state fair toilet.

Big box store rising,
white children in tankinis
jiggling angry cats.

Whose porno thumbnail?
A girl pogos, girl pogos
anus on my face.

Every brothel needs
bedside eggtimer--also
your eargasmic voice.

I was touched by God:
He gave me the power to
turn rock into stone.

Hollow, traffic’s wind.
I’m always a meter maid,
never a mermaid.

fierce dewey-eyed mouse--
push up, push up the spring trap
push up, push up—snap!

The Rub