Vicki Iorio is the author of the poetry collection, Poems from the Dirty Couch, Local Gems Poetry Press, 2013. You can read Iorio’s work in Hell strung and Crooked, I Let Go of the Stars, (Great Weather for Media), The Brownstone Poets Anthology, The San Pedro Review, The Mom Egg, Crack the Spine, Hysteria, The Paper Street Journal and Home Planet News.
In the The Collector, Mr. Clegg catches women and collects them. Chilling. I am a Clegg, collector of cystic C’s: cold and cruel. Carbon monoxide, clinics, cyanide, chemo. Colored. Can I say colored? If one is in possession of a Crayola, one can say colored. My father’s arms were colored cherry red from Coumadin. He wore a cardigan and listened to recordings of Pablo Casals playing the cello. Corrections, that’s a father’s job. Chica of the castanets, are you a cancer? Colorectal, new ass shade for spring. Coughing up coffin dirt- creeps me out. Cremation is to closure as closure is to crap. Collections- that’s why I never answer my calls. Silly cilia, cut your nose hair. Comedy Tonight! C U Next Tuesday. Cunnilingus, the aer ship floating on a cloud of Irish Celtic cum.