Sunday, March 5, 2017

Dragons in the Swamp

I thought skunk cabbage
was as white inside
as a sepulchre,
with a stench of the dead,
and rigid, upright
with nowhere to lay its lead.

The dragon of the swampy
black mud depths
is not depravity kind—
yet shall sin unwind
in her arsenic boots.
She had a cadmium modem,
so she told me,
that made her connected
to every other living thing.

They all dashed and bashed
her head,
’till it was bent
and yellow—still breathing,
but putrescent,
still living, but unwilling,