Poetry from Nicole Scott

Photo: Deleece Cook

The Mob Goes Wild

The couch crowed about its rips for each girl
who lost her virginity on its paisley olive cushions.
The afghan had a hole for each jet-black stiletto
stabbed through, rough housing
with the rich neighbor boy. Ladies didn’t care
who were ladies or if their crackers
got crumbs in the carpet; it gave purpose
to homeless, flourishing ants.
The wine had a nice red robe, and the cheese
was cut in choice cubes. The glasses
didn’t even break if they were knocked over.
Teeth stained from caffeine and delirium.
Luscious legs were crossed, and cocktail dresses
were cocktails. Toenails were painted burgundy
with the notion of lotioned foot massages.
Devils die to put pressure on those bruises.
Tongues were electric blue and drenched
in heat lightning, embellished with diamond
encrusted taste buds. Babes bumped into walls,
knocking over the Dali. My neck was your dinner.
Regret is as real as my sex life.
None of the rips in the couch were mine.
.

.

Nicole Scott is a West Virginia native and graduate of Marshall University with B.A’s in Creative Writing and Classical Studies. She also has an M.F.A in Creative Writing from Lindenwood University. She works as a freelancer and spends a copious amount of time debating on whether or not she needs another cup of coffee. Her blog, poetry, and other published work can be found on her website nicolescottpoetry.com.

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