Rushed Painting
by Aida Muratoglu

The snake licks the side
of the painting clean,
wiping memory with ass,
making promises to the
sun. She barely listens,
spins her ankles into
The snake licks the
wipes it clean on the sun’s
ass, their after sex eyes
boring holes into the other.
Neither of them listen,
just to the rustling of their
not-feet under the covers,
Who ever knows
where things are supposed
to go
in anyone’s house,
but especially your own?
Both of them have said
this to the other,
at the same time,
in the same bed,
under the same sky.
They can’t hear it
through the thick paint,
the licking
of the ankles
and the sucking
of the promises
and the cleaning
of the soft humming sounds

Aida Muratoglu is a poet living in Brooklyn, NY whose work has appeared in the Critical Flame.