Bad Apple
he’s a bad apple.
the kind you hope kills himself,
saves you the trouble.
says there’s a gun in
the garage, but won’t say where.
in clutter it hides.
she sees she was blind.
now that it’s too late, two young
boys to feed and clothe.
protection order?
get real. if he wants you, he’ll
find you, anyway.
at your mother’s house.
your girlfriend’s. some cheap motel.
there’s no money left.
he’s ruined your credit.
destroyed your self-esteem. now
you can only wait.
he’s a bad apple.
the kind you hope kills himself,
before he kills you.
Alexis Rhone Fancher’s work most recently can be found in Rattle, The MacGuffin, Slipstream, Fjords Review, and H_NGM_N. Her book of erotic poems, How I Lost My Virginity To Michael Cohen and Other Heart Stab Poems,” will be published this August by Sybaritic Press. In 2013 she was nominated for two Pushcart Prizes. She is poetry editor of Cultural Weekly. www.alexisrhonefancher.com
