honestly…

honestly,
the sun is full of razors

and, even if it’s embarrassing,
it’s still the gospel truth…
I used to collect amnesias,
but now, I’ve given all that up;
gave the whole set back
to her majesty, the queen

and now, there’s so much knowledge,
it won’t even fit on the milk cartons

but, the juice
is much more slippery,
on the other side of town

if we’re really telling all,
there are only sharks
in the sea

each bite,
delicious sadness,
if you must know

let’s be totally clear
about all of this,

we’ve grown far too close
to one another
to stop lying to ourselves, now

the party favor wasn’t punished
for passing itself around,
but for passing itself off
as a thing all nailed down

let your hairless cats hang loose, and
slip into something nauseating

it ruins the texture of the pudding,
if you don’t bleed it out just right

so, dish out the starchy,
fat parts of the story,
so you can
pick up a new one,
down at your favorite food truck

give it all away
before midnight,
and the fifth
is free

not to burst any bubbles,
but the snowman
isn’t actually
made of lunar cheese

and, all that rain is fake;
it’s really nothing more
than water

the consigliere is only guessing,
it’s all wild speculations;
hopes that no one will notice,
that they’ll all just play along

but, the wandering minstrel
has lost his will to lie down

and, the troubadour
is sharpening his boots
for the dance

on the level, I will tell you
that motor isn’t running,
only because it’s
all out of rocks and gum balls

if it’s time to get real,
then we must
suck it up
and finally admit,
all the Kewpie dolls
are dying in the streets

the cobbler is high again;
treatment didn’t take

the shoes are made of peaches,
the boats all made of pearls
and, the pears are getting fresh
with the sailors in the saloon

apricot dandies dancing
with apple cider cinder blocks
in the twilight of everything
that never happened
thrice

rehearsing old headlines
for all the latest,
breaking news

the oysters
are all full of
shotgun pellets

all the nails are soggy,
and the slugs are too tall

every day is
carte blanche
ice cream, caviar, and
internal hemorrhaging

all the wild ponies
are stuffed with loose rainbows,
loose rainbows made of oil spills,
and sprinkles of leprosy

the attraction is purely chemical,
pure forever chemicals

today…

today was
full of
not dying

and a tentative
lucidity

the significance of this is
yet to be determined

it’s either a huge win,
or it is entirely meaningless,
or it’s the greatest loss
of the entire war,

or it’s wholly imaginary,
or it’s simply
yet to be
determined

all the bubbles
are busy blowing
away in the breezes

all the busy
are stuck,
spinning endlessly,
on the quick wash
unicycle

none of the etiquette
equates to
actual manners

no one’s manner equates

at least,
not to anything short of
mannerisms

the etiquette of mannequins

the ethics of plush toys;
plush toys on holiday,
plush toys that
can’t be bothered
with all your
insistence
on being
treated
as anything
more than
a plush toy

the horizon is full of paper cuts,
and old bandaids

all the drums squeak
when you hit them

each sip is dry,
and demands
yet another

if you’re walking into the furnace,
be sure to take a jacket with you,
so you don’t catch cold

every bottle you find
is full of three wishes,
someone else’s

none of the colors run;
they all stand their ground,
ready to fight you to the death

any of these knives
are sharp enough
to do the job,
just as long as
you don’t need to
cut anything

all these silk handkerchiefs
are perfectly safe;
not a single one of them
will have been harmed in the slightest,
after they’re done
strangling you

the factories are all
at maximum production,
cranking out empty picture frames
and invitations to dinner

the lists of new lists
seem to sit flush with eternity;
none of them complain,
and it takes a hot minute
to become accustomed
to the silence

every pile of shit
that you see here, on the ground,
they all taste like
chocolate and peanut butter;
trust me

this machine gun
is so much more
convenient
than air conditioning

if we’re speaking candidly,
then, you always
preferred hanging
your laundry
out to dry

there are no more puppies
but, we’re all stocked up on
ska music, instant polyps, and
disposable consciences

all the mountains shatter
when you step on them…
if we’re being totally honest

the days, all ripped up,
for tourniquet rags

the hours, shattering into dust,
if you so much as
glance at them sideways

each of these
marvelous things,
all made possible
by your presence

now, the hounds
will go without their supper,
and the king’s innards
will spill out at his feet,
there, on the palace floor

and all the poor children will cry,
because none of the salads
will ever be scrambled again

and the tumbleweeds
will all starve,
for want of the suffocation
you so graciously
bestowed upon them,
in the days gone by

none of the little assassins
will get Christmas cards this year,
despite having been such
good girls and boys

the coffee is full of conspiracy,
and the fish all taste like marshmallows

the sleet sings sweet lullabies,
in which there are no names

just between you and me,
and this scarecrow, here…

as long as we’re
shooting straight…

it’s terribly worrying
to think that
none of the boils will be
allowed to fester
and ripen in time
for the harvest

because you
will not be here
to feed them

it is tragic,
how much you will
be missed

the traffic
moves right along,
screaming its miseries
into the night

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©2024 Kevin Trent Boswell

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