Saturday, November 15, 2008

Escape by Craig Sernotti

I walk the dog for the night
on broken glass, empty contact cases,
dead marsupials.
We come to back to
a frost giant
smoking a cheap liquor store cigar
on my couch.
The leash turns to earthworms &
pancake mix.
The stains on my shirt
pirouette by my ribs, take the shape
of John Wayne Bobbitt’s
reconstructed penis.
I jump into the toilet,
salute the laughing showerhead
& swim down & out
to the safety of
an abandoned
wasterwater treatment plant.
As for the dog,
we don’t talk about her anymore.

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