Center of Your Silken Den

Your couch
was made of velvet.
Supple to the touch.
I didn’t notice
as my defenses
went soft.
Waking up,
I felt the marks
left by your claws.
Your teeth
were sharp as needles.
Subtle with their sting.
I should have known
the invitation
carried stipulations.
The door closed
behind my back
as soon as I arrived.



Rebate Bracket

Tiptoed across wet wood
with the children of mice
The sky was the sound of hell
being raised
on government cheese
weeping and wailing
and stuck in the teeth
Big smiles on stuck pins
with the voodoo chant cranked high
Pink lids poke the skin of eyes
being closed
in a covered casket
smashed vase symphony
soils the chloroform mask



About the poet:

Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, live performances, and books can be found. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Scott serves as an editor for The Peregrine Muse. He has been a weekly contributor at the Dissident Voice Sunday Poetry Page for the past three years.