Fall 1991 • Vol. XIII No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 1991 |

War and Eggs

we lost a lot to drugs  prostitution generic death in that revolutiona relatively bloodless war  released in a virus of hate I wasthere and felt it all so personally the distance between me and you a blast of buckshot I followed you into the moonlit woods cursingyour glowing white skin   the manipulation of lust so obvious and controlled by the headlights on the crest of the hill the sewage pipes run like pee  into the earth and breaking through  thebrush a cow stared from across the road  Looking north the air smelled of salty heat and butterflies  I was not interestedin babies or sperm  as I turned and watched the rat  run across  theroom the energumen of  lust  rushes head-long to anything which can understand the wordless power  of my burning eggs  the smell sharp  likesulphur  whistling 45 against the wind alone this time notelltale light to expose me holding still amongst the poison ivyit is not lust for my childlike skin inside the body

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