Justin Bieber Prison Fever

Justin Bieber

made me a belieber

in prison fan fiction erotica

told through tweets to fans,

tweens twiddling their tiny twats

over crushed Xanax-colored skin

the new orange, newest black

for high fashion V-neck jumpsuits

cinched at an elastic waist

felt up by an inmate’s

thick Latino hands,

tattooed and scared

from L.A. gang banging days

when mornings started with

silver Raider pride eye shadow

smeared on the lower stomach

by orally inclined Cholitas,

prayers and the sign of the cross

towards a superstitious mother’s

alter for Saint Cesar Chavez

a pile of withering grapes

Christ candles burnt to their glass base

minority memories only a laser

can melt away—or the androgynous

body of an uncut Canadian

lesbian haircut trendsetter

separated at birth from Miley Cyrus

getting his chocolate pop-starfish

came in like a wrecking ball,

balls breaking rectal walls

never hit so hard with forced love

made desperate by circumstance—

letting in semen without protection

for protection celebrity can’t buy

but commissaries can,

Hot Cheetos for haircuts

Snickers for soap only on ropes

the wonderful prison wife of Oz

paid no attention behind the curtain

of a bottom cell bunk

power bottoming to parole

or a White House deportation

petitioned by suburban dads

whose wallets weep from iTunes

track remix purchases of a heartthrob

focusing on the throbbing husband

inside him whispering

in a once diamond-studded ear

“never say never.”

-Jonathan Flike

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