Hillary Smith-Maddern
Lucy the Fuckdoll
There is a box on my porch / too wide to get my arms
around. / I shove it / upstairs. This box slaps / a reminder
of how fucking stupid / you are. I assume you forgot /
to cancel my birthday / present, so now I’ll have to thank
you / for mailing your heartbreak / straight to my front
door. Knife cuts / tape — reveals box within box — / reveals white box and
disembodied / torso. In hot pink / letters: Fuck Me Silly. / I panic / re-wrap t
he boxes / knowing you won’t notice, / your idiocy a blessing / for once. She
is entombed / on my table and I can’t / resist. I Google the torso:
She comes in two flavors. She is easy
to clean when you’re done fucking her
NEVER say no holes. She won’t talk
back like your last woman. You can
hide her under your bed or in your
closet. She is always down. Pleasure
in her authentic feel, better than real
pussy. You can flip her on her back
& fuck her with no condom, no
commitment, & no bullshit.
My brain spins red flags. / You live with your parents /
and which closet will you lock her in? / You made a separate Amazon
account / just for this purchase. / Tonight, Ruth Bader Ginsberg Guy will
moan, / his mouth between my legs, counting how many / times I cum. You /
spent $300 on a fuck toy / when you don’t have a job.
My phone buzzes. Your text:
I have a very important package
arriving today. Can you please
leave the box on the porch?
