Recipe :
broken hand
mill gris
sound of ball bearings catching
sleepwalking murderer
Mix thoroughly :
until smooth
poster paint
smell of egg
pours like density
Bake at 350° :
until a knife comes clean
golden like waves
sizzle
then
Showing posts with label knife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label knife. Show all posts
28 February 2017
19 October 2016
Poem-A-Day #233 : The Grattan Murders
The Grattan Murders
A knife
His hands
A wire
A shiv
The clock counts the ways
that a man could kill his family
It strikes twice per hour
How drunk his ass must have been
how sad his life before or after - he
must have been on PCP
He lost Jesus
A knife
from the kitchen block
the one for turkey at Thanksgiving - the
one his father gave him
the day the baby was born
His hands
around his own
mother's neck - he'd dreamt it
since he was 5
A wire
the folds of the skin - leather
the wire is a belt the wire is a moment
a switch from the tree out front
a sound like be a man
A shiv for baby
He had been staring out at the lake for hours
had managed to not drink or anything
had come home silently
had decided without deciding
A knife
His hands
A wire
A shiv
The clock counts the ways
that a man could kill his family
It strikes twice per hour
How drunk his ass must have been
how sad his life before or after - he
must have been on PCP
He lost Jesus
A knife
from the kitchen block
the one for turkey at Thanksgiving - the
one his father gave him
the day the baby was born
His hands
around his own
mother's neck - he'd dreamt it
since he was 5
A wire
the folds of the skin - leather
the wire is a belt the wire is a moment
a switch from the tree out front
a sound like be a man
A shiv for baby
He had been staring out at the lake for hours
had managed to not drink or anything
had come home silently
had decided without deciding
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