Achilles at His Best

Contractually obligated
to be the deepest redeemer
like coral reef Christ in Key Largo
you look up the meaning of "madrigal"
and decide it's got nothing to do with you.
Sometimes even a rain delay's
a win.

Gypped by her wide-set eyes
--soft, demure, and feline--
you're cussed out by the snot
that's oft mistaken for trench art.

If enough folks say you're wrong
then you're wrong
like that twenty-something kid
who said he won't learn shit
on a jackhammer.

Damned is the sea wall
since the ampersand arrow
knows just where to strike.

They don't want what's left.
They only want the piss in you.
Timing's a real cocksucker
in fairy tales.

No comments: