Never Trust A Brother
An erotic lipogram
by Laura Roberts
Copyright 2011 Laura Roberts
Smashwords Edition
Cover image collage: “Franciscan monk stained glass detail,”
by Thomas Quine (CC 2011, via Flickr) + “Pin-up Girl,”
by Markiza (CC 2010, via Flickr)
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For all the poems you wrote about me (the me absent from each vague, roundabout sketch), and for all the poems you bestowed upon other women -- so much more flamboyant, the way you portray the tangle of legs, the haunches craved -- the woman you love shall depart at sunset. Poet, sure of your own glory, you shall be the one that begs on bended knee, just as every poor, green lass who followed after you for weeks and tore her tresses and beat her breast has done forever and evermore.
Tell the tale of all your lovers lost, recount each woman who threw herself upon your bed!
No matter: You shall be the one to grovel, to pray to any and all gods for my safe return, ungrateful one. At last, you shall be the one to play the part of Bereft Lover as the sun submerges, the one to wonder how flawlessness could have become so flawed, because now you shall hear -- by beauteous candle glow -- each element of your dearest roommate's attempts to enrapture me.
He's captured me, you see. Yes, me! My heart, you see, under lock and key. Tee-hee!