funerals

I keep hate so sharp in my mouth

that my teeth won't file down,

edges rough like mountain ranges

or maybe mountain lions

when people kiss me

they taste an acid stronger than

black coffee or divorce paperwork

even on the day they lower me into

the ground I'll be snarling

in my Sunday best, a beast

beating strong inside my matchstick

chest, and I'll be chanting threats like prayers

"I'll kill you I'll

kill you I'll kill

you"