Poem # 17

I do not work without armour.  No bare stomach saves this body

from my bosses.  Today’s delusions brought to it by parasitosis.

Picking at what’s there,  stupid.  Immune this skin. Dare it, bitch.

Itch when my boss is near.  Dare dare,  little one. Skin thickens post

scratch. Cottage cheese build up.  O Muses,  before this body inurns,

Athena reforms Phoenix.  Miley so hood, she my bosses best

friend. Gregor reconciles toe jam on Maundy.  Scrubs post polished

feet fit for housing. Feminist men really know when their talking

about me.  Got hoes in different area codes.  My librarian

goes rogue. She says, “this space don’t fit your addy,  please leave

Robert Borden  at the  door.” I say  to her  “Librarian,

though you fall  besidethis body,  let none shrink from fighting.”