Postmodern Poetry - Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

Deluxe lesion eventually–never mind
the numbness alone and a cold bites
bones you thought you didn’t have

the balls–Tools and the smudge
on the very edges jelly of the sides
of the eyes scattered over

everything you see

here was before I got hired in–
The Dr. Spock nostrils, the waxen
efficiency, that cold-ass Nurse

Ratchet–And clangs languid blisters,
language photographs, shred docs from
a mansized safe–

Nothing the size of a man
is safe

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.