Bayshore Boulevard, January 29, 2017
1.
After the invasion
Pirate lovers lay bleedin into
Each other’s blood
Breathin offal tang into
Each other’s throats
Pasted together by last night’s jism
Glitter coats their milky corpses
Curtains, shades, ceiling mirror, a buddha
Die smears their lily faces
Dimmed, too, by portents to be
Forgotten for orange blossoms
In the early afternoon…
If they even rise
If they ever rise—a
String of beads trails from one of their
Clutching assholes
2.
Pinky’s closes at 2 o’clock, they gon get there in time?
Pinky’s closes at 2 o’clock, lord, lord, tell me, are they gon get there in time?
Cuz if they don’t go to Pinky’s, they gon have to find some other place to dine
3.
Thunder tumblin through sun’s bright upended bag
Broken Tito’s bottle twisted in the face of a toad
Barnacle traffic cone buggerin a dirty nimbus egg
Plastic bubbles roilin out a baffled sea creature’s mouth
Gutshot portapotty hemorrhagin into the gutter
Crushed red Solo after crushed red Solo, strange petals these
Where grass used to be, shiverin carpets of tape—and
Oranges, thousands of
Oranges cascadin down steel bleachers
Under a fetid circus tent, amid crumblin columns
Cementfilled skulls, waterlogged fibulas, gangrenous anchors
Black men, only black men
Labor to pull up stakes
Haulin on cords serenely
Tangled in infinity’s knot
Vote for your favorite poem and story at cltampa.com/writingcontest through March 3.
