Poetry by K.R. Copeland

 

Liquid Assets

 

A liquor buzz

offers

little or no

comfort

when you

suffer

from the

t

r

i

c

k

l

e

d

o

w

n

effect

 

 

Intuitive Mosquitos

 

Opinions whizzing through my head

(intuitive mosquitoes)

giving me the itch to write a poem

 

 

Red Lipstick

 

She walks the streets

in sky-high heels

and see-through

strips of fabric

soliciting, and

turning tricks like

ruby tubes of lipstick -

she cashes in

flat on her back,

(or sometimes on all fours)

remembering her father’s words,

"Red lipstick is for whores!"

 

 

I Wonder, When I Am Dead

 

I wonder, when I am dead, will the mortician marvel at the fullness of my breasts,

the slimness of my hips,

my face, my waist, the length of my legs?

Will he bend to kiss my lifeless lips,

hold my inanimate hands?

Will he attend my funeral three-piece suited,

losing control, as he watches them lower me in?

Will he visit my gravesite regularly,

setting himself against cold headstone,

reading Shakespeare sonnets aloud for hours,

blanketing my grave with scarlet petals,

prior to every departure?

Will he ultimately dig me up, dust me off,

and dance about with my cadaver,

underneath an understanding moon?

I wonder, when I am dead, will I find love?

 

 

About the Author

 

K.R. Copeland is a land dwelling, air breathing, featherless bi-ped, who has somehow managed to teach herself a thing or two about poetry. Her work has appeared in numerous publications, and can be viewed online currently at Alternate Realities, Bias Onus Quarterly (featured writer), Poetry Superhighway (past featured poet), Seeker (selected poems), and Unlikely Stories.