a crisp vertigo
has bitch-slapped me
right out of my seat,
and taken my place
at the table
how is it that one can be
gun-shy and trigger-happy,
at the same time?
these lesser mysteries
fall pale and sickly,
into the dim, sour heat
of winter’s chamberpot
fasten a few severed limbs
to your Christmas wreath,
and sing that classic
advertising jingle once more;
it does so warm the hearts of the masses
put a few coppers
into the wooden collection box
to help the neighborhood children
raise enough funds to
burn down the old cathedral, and
replace it with a house of mirrors
it’s a good cause
or, at least, it’s one that they’ll
never write songs about,
and hence, we’ll never have to
listen to them singing
you scrunch up your brow
and wonder, with a new brand of vexation,
what is this peculiar dip
you’ve been invited to
plunge your nacho poker chips into?
it is gray with fear,
it cringes and recoils
when you move towards it
and, what’s more,
it reeks of both vinegar
and victory
a blind man sidles up next to you
and tugs at your coat sleeve, saying
“I’ve seen this movie. Trust me,
you won’t like it, either.”
the cat has dragged home, and
ceremonially draped, a hippopotamus
across your threshold
it is more than a little incensed
that you show no appreciation
for its generosity
fickle creatures,
all of us
more inscrutable nightmares,
injected straight into the jugular
night wipes the sweat from its brow,
takes another shot of whiskey,
and motions disapprovingly
toward the calendar on the wall
the constable slurs an order
to the lieutenant on duty,
who promptly douses the wall with gasoline,
and sets the calendar ablaze
before exiting, he salutes, and
cheerfully says, “No worries, sir.
We’ll have a new one nailed up
in time for the New Year’s festivities.”
all the stops have been ripped out
from the church organ
now, it will do little more than blow bubbles,
and coo sinister, atonal choruses
of “Hail to the Chief,”
“Ring Around the Rosie,”
and “Tiptoe Through the Tulips”
“Ashes, ashes…”
we are always
falling down
it has been said that
there are worse things
than you
still, it is truly
impossible to know,
and difficult to imagine,
where such monsters
could possibly
exist
©️2023 Kevin Trent Boswell
Kevin Trent Boswell 