Venus Flytrap
I want a mellifluous chirper.
I want it loud and plump,
I want it flighty, I want to fight it
until it liquefies.
I want its legs long and wings chitlin.
I want it fiddling meat-wild rage
and I want it bad.
When it comes, I’ll be as patient
as outfield grass in winter.
The hairs on my leaves’ll be as loose as
a mum bulb awaiting bees—
as a peat bog awaiting peat hogs.
When it comes, I won’t clamp down
until that scar-pocked coin
turns round in the pitch ocean sky.
Then I’ll snort it fast as blow.
Who cares if I die twice?
I’ll digest every last eye and antenna
before that panting sniffer comes to spray my feet.
I’ll absorb the carnal proteins like Adonis
ogling the red frock on a Greek god’s date
and my high speed, high def snap of jaw
will be your awe-inspiring trauma.
This is all for you.
Other Works
THE FOGGY SEA.
by Shane Jesse Christmass
... My hoarse voice—nothing here to please me—contact lenses in the dust ...
Assassinated Congolese Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba’s Resurrection
by Paul David Adkins
... but they wanted him dead and, // indeed, / killed him once....