Annulling the Future
by Bill Yarrow
If you can't consummate tomorrow
you may as well just annul the future.
That bride is a sticky risk anyway.
Look at her—ruffles in all the wrong
places. Her perfume stinks of wrinkle
cream. She uses bleach to keep her
complexion stiff. She's infested with
multiple lovers from the past. She's
not the future you remember. Her
bones are porous from overexertion.
Her glands are full of pride. You see
that push-up look in her eyes? How
beautiful she looks in the indigo shade.
She is a maid of weaponized affection.