Slaminatrix

My name is Nila Marse
I may be older’n dirt and twice as ugly
But I ain’t never owed nobody nothin’

‘at’s right, I been worked like a mule all my life
bustin’ my ass and payin’ dues to where I’m bled drier than a salt box
I raised eight brothers and sisters with no mama
and a no ‘count daddy
Hell, he was worse than no daddy at all

I been workin’ thirty years at the chicken plant
my fingers all hobbled up
my lungs so full of dust from ground up chicken bones
every time I cough, feathers fly outta

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If I were a man
I’d have a big dick

just like the United States of America

a bulging, pulsing, heat-seeking hummer of an all-beef torpedo
amply endowed by his Creator
with the strength to carry the weight of nations
and inspire…
covert double takes at UN urinals

Yes, mine would be an impressive beast
I’d have to special order Congressional protection
to insure a fit that didn’t impede my circulation
Small nations might feel a slight clutch of fear
at first sight but
I’d be gentle — just ask Iraq

Mine would be a regal and handsome dick
dangling or erect, it would

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by Lisa Martinovic

Buona notte, he said
Do you know what that means?

the dance is over
house lights bright sting
my eyes watch musicians tired packing
a 45 hissing skips in a groove
our clothes stained muscles aching
glass slippers shattered feet bleeding
I cling, I beg for one last hug
He sighs assent
lets me curl and snake ‘round his chest
thick and muscled chest I’ve stroked and
clutched all primal urgency suckling
I became with him I

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by Lisa Martinovic

She is all lips—nothing more
All that matters are her lips
no Cleopatra eyes, Barbie nose no
long dangly Buddha ears
She is all lips pink and brimming
Every sense worth indulging
coming to or
tumbling from those lips lips lips

She is all lips full, fleshy
pulpy peaches halved
fresh fallen from the tree—ripe
sugar-laden luscious lightly scented
redolent of promise flashing
nature’s opulence

She is all lips no pits
magenta centers rough
bruised berries,tart as cherries
plump and primed her
reckless excess beckons him
daring him to come inside
those lips lips lips

Her lips exist for pleasure
nothing

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by Lisa Martinovic

You don’t find Peruvian purple potatoes at Safeway
much less organic ones
which is only one reason I won’t shop there
And I wasn’t even looking for anything as exotic
as Peruvian purple potatoes
wandering the aisles of my neighborhood health food store
but when I saw them
for the first time
I was no match for their alien incongruous beauty
so I brought home a lapful
set them on top of the fridge
and waited for the perfect moment
to make a meal of these exotic tubers
weeks passed, dust gathered
the moment never materialized
and my

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