[The following is my preferred version of a poem that was first published in an issue of Paper Crow last year.]
Depilatorio
.Savage, I tear into my next-day delivery
.This IGIA that sounds like some goddess
.Let the machine be a true worker of wonder
.Modern-night miracle for the unsuitably hirsute
.No more abrasive Nair baths, or abrasive shaving
.Bloodshed stemmed if this product can root down deep
.Its silver-tipped wand sizzles and sears, excites my hopes
.Intent as a tattooist I pore over every epidermal inch
.Stoking and stoking, invoking my follicle holocaust
.And so now I lie naked, masochistically hairless
.Yet taunted by the 30daymoneybackguarantee
.As I keep watchful eye on the waxing moon
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