I’ll forever wipe that unchaste
smile from your face, I thought
as, while she slavered lies
through a hydroxyl haze, I slyly
slid a kitchen knife into
a bag of peas in the freezer
and garnered ice for her nightcap.
Sleep tight, cherub, tonight the bugs
might not be all your anaesthesia
will be keeping you dead to.
While she slept I basted her
open lips with agave tequila, slipped
cotton swabs imbued with vodka
neatly between her lips and gums
and when I judged her fully numb
performed a facial labiotomy.
The bleeding I contained with the aid
of bulldog clips and improvised sutures
using fluorocarbon fishing line.
I stored her severed lips in vinegar
and placed the jar on the mantelpiece
where I could watch her smile
fade away at my leisure. By dawn
they were wan, but the broadest grin
adorned my wife’s astonished face.
(c) 2013 Slush Poet
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