Peter Burzynski 

 

     

 

     

     Maundy Ceremony

 

           

                                                            

 

My dearest, Dinosaur, push out breath.

Staple your chest. Twice filter air into lung.

 

Smoulder like a chimney with a hole ash to ash.

I slept. Each grainy piece of you, a signal

 

drawing down a neatly unbuckled breast.

I sang gravity.  Balance an armadillo

 

with steel skin often colored grey

under the pre-dawn morning’s breath. I sighed.

 

Your thighs baked and chapped, strained

like a tie pulled too thin. I ate greasy treats.

 

You forage for the predictably scattered

among evening dews.  Hungry fingered

 

claws circle around to feel cartilage at each bend.

Sewage or flesh? Recycle with bites. Undress.

 

 

 

 

 

  • w-facebook
  • Twitter Clean