He drank wine all night of the
28th, and he kept thinking of her:
The way she walked and talked and loved
The way she told him things that seemed true
But were not, and he knew the color of each
Of her dresses
And her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of
Each heel as well as the leg shaped by it

And she was out again and when he came home
And she'd come back with that
Special stink again, And she did
She came in at 3 am in the morning
Filthy like a dung eating swine and
He took out a butchers knife
And she screamed
Backing into the rooming house wall
Still pretty somehow
In spite of love's reek
And he finished the glass of wine
That yellow dress his favorite
And she screamed again

And he took up the knife
And unhooked his belt
And tore away the cloth before her
And cut off his balls

And carried them in his hands like apricots
And flushed them down the toilet bowl
And she kept screaming
As the room became red

GOD O GOD! What have you done?

And he sat there holding 3 towels
Between his legs
No caring now whether she left or stayed
Wore yellow or green or anything at all
And one hand holding and one hand
Lifting he poured another wine