2023-12-01

Dec. 1

Like the creek happens to run with automobile traffic
(Though they are at best enemies)
so too, if you find yourself amongst the 7 foilaged trees
in the heart of winter,
likely without your rosary,
The Beam comes around the bend
And the tic turns your head
To meet its gaze feeling as steam
Screaming, you’ll kneel.

eventually, prostrate,
Ants will crawl up your nose
And the orchestra will appear
held there, supplicant
They’ll play
and you will cry,

And as the intermission starts,
while the conductor and the concert master
shake hands, smiling towards
a thunderous applause
with no eyes,
a car will fly off of
Fordham Blvd.

Many in the ensemble will be flattened
And you will sink through the floor
left with only sonerous memories,
To be met at the desk of Hell

You’ll get checked in
(Wow! Ninth Circle!)

once you’re up to your neck
and a few weeks pass,
a hole will open in the ceiling

It’s Jesus
accompanied by the ringing of hundreds of millions
of telephones,
and his eyes will tell you
he’ll be back soon

He’ll drop you down a pair of skates
Beelzebub and Yaldaboath
will jump for them
but be blasted back.

Your naked body will be freed
and you’ll skate-in-wait
as the icy wind blows,
and your teeth will chatter
with a smile