wool muddied and pink

melissa martini

counting sheep to sleep:

the fire flares less often
screaming quietly behind
steroids and soft clothes

but at the slightest sign
of a spark, a cigarette
butt burnt into your skin,

she playfully cries wolf:

your skin soon whitens
like a lamb’s soft wool,
it sheds like its sheared,

lichens ripping, fusing
as if a sweater is sewn
stitched & neatly knitted

but you need a life vest:

extinguishing fire flames
involves drowning sheep
dousing them in steroids

until they are knee-deep
wool muddied and pink
your flesh medium-rare