Flesh Monger Life
whoever is the mind sucks you in, father
you have so much of the past as residue, guilt-ridden
fore-fathers, feathered glories
stinking gunpowder, pink, explosive
liquified, genderlessi I who live in the absence of the dream
is a black fiend, held tight
as the night pushes you in white on
all youth is accessory to death, stretched young to a mistress
confidently wordless, she smiles and soothes faces
wearing fur fur fur, winding, sealing to a masked
excuse to live is to reproduce wet nights
the words repeated only let you sip, mouth half full
half empty, an apparatus of the flesh monger life
nudging you to the dark walk of the
soul’s night St.something
image: Julia Soboleva