self loathing

 
 
there have been women here
cackling jews laughing loudly
in the front room
spoiling my morning coffee
their voices resonate across
apogee and archway
working ever closer to my ear
now singing broadway musicals
slightly off key
but with depth of timbre
lets you know they've had
a lesson or two
haughty bitches, these two
no longer here, of course
though i feel them in the wood
sense their very id-nesses in the grain
beneath my palms
smell them on the air through
bacon fat and coffee grounds
and expensive eau de toilette
sticky as incense
expansive as musk
mank and odious
as kelp rotting
on eastern shores
at sunlight's latest hour