Dark Red A Marooned Killer Whale {Juliet Cook}
My discharge stains conveyor belts;
replaces concession stand candy with a new confessional booth,
where simply saying you're sorry (again and again) won't work. NO.
This time I won't forgive. I'll spit it back at you like poison apples.
Hurl the red sticky debris until you can't swim in it anymore.
Because when you say you're sorry that many times,
you don't really mean it. You're a field of lies. You've tainted my thighs
and now they're a pressure cooker, ramming red paint inside ramekins
and serving you. I've got more than enough in my blood-drenched palate
to turn this whole house red - every bed sheet, every bowl, every drain
(mixing, toilet). Tear out every red tooth, flush it, pour it down and out
until I am done with you. Then I will paint myself my own color of maroon.
