PS ( / Hagerstown, Maryland)

Fecal City

fecal city, do you cradle a corpse
somewhere in your sewer depths? you might hold
the bones of one who loved & played for me.

i cross the river quickly to escape
your smoke & dirty underwear, your smoke
& the scratchy train tracks running through like veins.

even as you nod at me your leaves fall & rotate in the water,
turning me into the proverbial nuclear winter,
a paradox of rigidity with a cold burn.

roxy, see if you can get him on the phone.
roxy, i tell you true, wet panties & desire
will not light the way.

these symbols look a lot like confusion.
he doesn't feel i have enough support,
that i should hold hands more at bedtime.

read your books & take your medicine.
try not to sleep your life away.

roxy, why do we always end up
at the end?

by Pasha Satara

Comments (1)

Some interesting images. Some disturbing, yes, but who's looking for nursery rhymes here? Those unanswered questions, so examinable, and so frustrating?