She’s built like a swarm of bees,
green and red on the inside---
I like left-wing girls
that smoke *** and are cool;
She’s got a dead girl in her suitcase
But she blames a man
who doesn’t understand

A broken jug leaking *****
She uses on her warts,
The alphabet simple as dance,
Martha going through time tunnels
Arriving late to Warhol’s party
In prime diva fashion,
She and Isadora going at it---

Someone married violently
Someone moving in next door,
Tis not the antidote mirroring truthfully
crawling over her body---
Gunshot residue divine,
Her mother moving away
Leaving her in the camp---
Startled by her sexiness