The lie excites me,
big one I mean, not
that cheap druff of
common dishonesty.

Its bareface weight
strengthens my nerve:
keeps me in trim,
in killer instinct.

Lie to your mouth,
like a kukri, yerking
between the ribs.
Heft in the heart.

I rammed one bang
through your ears, felt
the burn surging
slow as a curse.

And you took it
thud on the lip, looked
wall-eyed, you missed
my thrill. Perhaps

you practise balance
in the mirror, take
daily exercise.
I think you're the liar.

From the book Looks Familiar