Smoke Screen
early spring evening—
a roar of laughter
rises from our circle
waving the smoke
away from our faces
choking on sarcasm
I leave the group
to clear my lungs
in the meadow—the deer
roasting on the spit
full moon
mosquito bites
on Jerry’s ass
turning away
bile in my throat
•
the fire
extinguishes beneath
my sopping vomit
from across the smoke
a scavenging bear
tearing into flesh
white teeth
tipped in copper
Jerry dies after eating
112 pennies on a dare
bathing with the television
flickering lights
--abandoned kitten
adventurous pet
bloody, matted fur
on my bumper
•
china cracks
milk escapes
thin layer of curd
cat hunting in groups
full moon
pressed to the glass
plastic place mat--
spilt milk
on kittens and flowers
the last straw
Mommy starts to scream
the daughter wails
like her mother
--blossomed cherry
sprawled across the bed
he watches her leave
and her zipper close
•
the sound of denim
tingles up her spine
candles lit
lights turned low
sleeping with a cigarette
siren!
setting the atmosphere
of the smoky bedroom
running back into the
flame
for her dolly
impassioned fire
sings me to sleep
as the smoke darkens my lungs
the glowing embers
of my lucid self
•
as the campfire
dies so do
my imaginary friends
I suddenly realize
I’m talking to nothing
in the open meadow
the vast sky
open to me
gathering his things
the storyteller
tips his hat
moonlit silhouette
a lonely tap-dance
down the river Styx
I throw away
my last empty bottle
•
garbage on the street
piling up next to
the cherry blossoms
pigeons on the fence
disturbed
—now flapping
stilettos
and sneakers
each finding their own way
hermaphrodite snail
is indifferent to
shoe shopping
the last street lamp
with a breeze
falls silent
empty road
full
of nothing particular
• • •
Brian Blankenship, Adam Stefo, Brian Rohde, Jamie Devitt, Pat Steadman, Rik Bearce, and Stephanie Dietrich