Kristin Sanders

In A Week Or Two Sung By Diamond Rio

In a week or two

I was gonna bring you diamonds

Get glittery with pink pus.

Get vajazzled.

Sparkle your cinnabuns,

string pearls between your legs,

gurgle creamy froth from every crack.

Take what he gives.

Take the diamonds,

hide them in your belly rolls,

hide them in his pubic hair,

go diving for your treasure in his wreck.

Jolene Sung By Dolly Parton

Your voice is soft like summer rain

And I cannot compete with you, Jolene

Jolene was like, Come here Sugartits,

and he was like, But I have a girlfriend,

and Jolene was like, I want your cock,

and he was like, But I’m a woman.

Then he became a man.

No one can compete with Jolene, really:

it was hairy tunneling in synch,

a karaoke of bursting orgasms,

cunt songs he crooned into her country.

Then she said, My vagina map is pointing me in the other direction.

He said, My vagina compass always points North.

So they departed.

He came back to me,

described it all in detail,

and even now I feel tight tingling below

when he moans her name at night.

The Fireman Sung By George Strait

Everybody’d like to have what I got

I can cool ‘em down when they’re smoldering hot

You have a hose.

You swing your hose like an elephant tusk.

You run with your hose ready

toward the biggest hottest house fires.

A woman has a cunt

for a house.

So now it all makes sense.

Sometimes you like to sleep in the house,

all curled up like a dead baby mouse.

Sometimes the woman’s other house, her mouth,

is on fire and that one must be sprayed down, too.

Phew!

Thank you for doing your job, Fireman.

There is no such thing as a Firewoman.

We know what that’s called.

Kristin Sanders is the author of the poetry chapbook, Orthorexia (Dancing Girl Press, 2011).  She teaches at Loyola University New Orleans and is a poetry editor at the New Orleans Review.