The mantis and I have very different feelings

Surrounding the term “postcoital”-

I think tenderly of the overlap in our vinyl collections,

         needles traced in the same grooves-

 And she debates whether she should’ve saved the rest of the carcass

          as a late-night snack.

But perhaps I’ve got it backwards;

I never liked the mouthfeel of the thing.

 The sharpness of the post,

Coital waddling like a drunk duck.

Hardly a term for tenderness-

and perhaps when she gnaws off his head

 The mantis meets God, tastes brain,

Blissful absence of revenant.  

I told you when I met the Devil,

he was 25, straight, white,

            And known to me- he had

 Something I wanted so badly

so I took that jagged   knife

And ran it deep and thin

down the length of my Achilles.

 Blood poured  in clean rivers-

             crushed glass in

            Holofernes’ sheets.

But I had no severed dome

                     To cherish; I woke up

                     and the bed was cold.