Thanksgiving '09

A view of the martyr turkey's funeral from stiff seats-
Carved wood bracing my sway back, hiding my face behind the centerpiece.
I see you've surrendered, on your back, giving birth to bulbous onions, celery, steaming and simmering exudate, a sweaty mother calling out for her sacrificial lamb.
I push my fist into your carcass while you're still on the operating table-
I feel around inside, and it's warm, moist, sticky on my foreign fingers.
Let's carve you up and dish you out, and let hated family members consume your flesh.
A sweet and fitting death.

Couplet?

Hands too heavy to hold-
Breathing, beating, far too bold.

Fertilizer

Mirrors on dingy walls reflect fetal creases-
Embryonic trumpet trills heralding decay.
Skin still dewy with amniotic fluids,
Seeds are planted in neat rows along my hairline.
Sprigs of fresh atrophy flourish there...
Supple youth is just fertilizer for age.

Fig Tree

Sweetness rots in shadows below tortuous trunks,
Over ripe, grainy figs giving birth to wasps.
Sugary seeds are wombs for angry things with wings...
Dropping, flying far from trees.

Oedipus Sex.

Oedipus Rex and his empty sockets...
Cornea, retina, iris- robbed like tombs,
eviscerated like aborted wombs.
Deft and dexterous, febrile spoon-
Visage draped in a morbid festoon.
But at least his testicles remained intact.

Eh.

Limp, flaccid, insipid implications,
Bearing down on bad days like shades of grey.
Black and white, myth and might.
Archetype, but not quite.
Masturbate and decay...
Is this what they marked as progress?
Redressed regress, red dress-
all a mess.
Masturbate and decay.
Decay and charades.
Charades and shades of grey.
Limp, flaccid, insipid implications.