Anne Sexton

Buying the Whore
 
You are the roast beef I have purchased
and I stuff you with my very own onion.
 
You are a boat I have rented by the hour
and I steer you with my rage until you run aground.
 
You are a glass that I have paid to shatter
and I swallow the pieces down with my spit.
 
You are the grate I warm my trembling hands on,
searing the flesh until it’s nice and juicy
 
You stink like my Mama under your bra
and I vomit into your hand like a jackpot
its cold hard quarters.

 

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