by Christopher Stackhouse
Chew the candy. Torn like a leaf on a tree that grew
from a crack in the concrete laid in an alley brutal
but potential for a lawn. Lounge there easy.
Find the line and straddle it. Stroke the pole.
Probe the hole. Be comfortable in all that is not
there. It simply is. Vomit on the linoleum floor soaking
your sock. Caw. Caw. Caw. Flickering buzz underground
like a wood pecker on crystal meth. Banging hard against
a hickory tree. A real hand job.
From:
Plural
Copyright ©:
Christopher D. Stackhouse
Last updated September 28, 2013