I wish that your eyes would fall out
and all your teeth blacken and your hair
would grow greasy and thin or come off
in clumps in the shower, where red swirls
the water from the blood that would puther
from your burnt, peeling scalp and your face
would turn jaundice and bloat like a corpse.
I hope you get cankers and lesions, pustules
in your armpits and kneepits and groin.
I want you to pant, knocked sick with pain,
fall bent like a coat hanger in arthritic agony,
go bunion, go bone, a death marionette.
Then will I come and rub oils on your flesh,
kiss life to skin, raise dead and you'll thank me.
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