Moses, the abortionist
parted all you'd ever see.
silly, silly, silly girl,
you stirred the pot with broken thumbs,
bones of splintered solitude.
and all for profit,
and your performance art;
we passed the biohazard hat
around the room and listened.
whatever gets you on,
whatever gets you by the
ebbs of chemical tide and undertow.
waves of lithium roll to drown,
and rising for benzo breaths of sleep
and all resolve
to photograph the
away and count what I’ve got left.
the only angels
come round here
all use my dope and never call―
feathers on the coffee table,
empty seats around the fire,
cell phone numbers, bits of paper;
no one here expects a thing
because the liquor watered down,
cocaine cut with laxative,
and furniture brought from the lawn
is not the way to host the night
nor toast the revelation
that waits for us the same.
Joseph M. Gant is the author of the obscenely large poetry collection, Zero Division, which is published by Rebel Satori Press. A scientific glassblower, Gant has no idea how he found himself in the small press world but assumes it bad karma to over think the matter. When not feeding potato chips to his cats, he edits poetry books for S A M Publishing.
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