Scoundrel Time

on October 13, 2017

Let the fat-assed harvest moon
Shake herself off the horizon
To crush you.

Let the Pacific breach the coast,
The plains, the Mississippi’s dagger,
And drag you back to the Marianas Trench.

Let every ghost, frantic, sullen or still,
Crowd around you, possess you,
Line the chambers of your conjectured heart.

Let your own body revolt
The wings of your thyroid beat and beat,
Sweetbreads, strangling, let your gut
Bind you in ropes of gleaming shit.

Let every torment find you as wasps can,
Or iron filings the magnet’s liver.
Let every law, fantasy, electrons,
Mitochondria, every lazy slap of the Earth’s
Liquid iron core, be put to this one purpose:

Suffering, petalled like a zinnia. Yours.


Check out the other poems in our “…knave, beggar, coward…” Goodbye! series!





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