Amy King
Stay At Home
Outsourcing is a very cocktail
piano. I make the movies
embrace me. I force the t.v.
to taunt me. My days
should have been game
show contestants. The fork of childhood
asked why one road and not another alley.
Why, an assembly line.
I, the maker, am born from the taker
of plastic trains and hot wheels.
I lick melting suede feet.
Don’t leave your teddy on the bedstand,
let’s make out with one
less infringement. Wrap your sheet
around me and let the film begin
endlessly on the fingers of sleep.