He only sleeps on Wednesdays, in a bed of nails and glass and
root canals. He times his sidewalk strides to beat breaks
and harvests gravity’s bounty from the cracked concrete,
wet and flowing like a shattered hydrant or an open wound
into a gutter, golden at the end of the refracted parabola.
He folds origami ships from his own suicide notes and sends them
floating into the sounding sewer. He is the worm in Adam’s apple
pie paradigm parade – think McDonald’s, not grandma.
He spirals like a butterfly born into a wind tunnel, taking
selfies at the gates of hell and smiling in all of them.
His brain was built from the shards of false prophets,
his synthetic soul fed by plastic prayers and Formica faith.
He is all the king’s horses and he is all the king’s men and he is walking on
eggshells. He buys a KitchenAid crown and scatters seeds from forbidden fruit,
his chin wet and sweet. It is time for him to feed and rest and metamorphosize,
so he is growing a new home to crawl inside of and permeate
with webs of tenuous tunnels that will collapse against your teeth
like mineshafts. He will strike your head inside his rotten-core chrysalis
and you’ve never felt so alive as when you take a bite and find him
bisected there between your lips and spit him into the dirt like a curse.
Man and Man Made
diagnose this demon
one hand slashes the other
in a cerebral haze-creation
articulating aura, synthesizing
sentient sea spray, dripping
he who speaks but does not hear
cuts down his own masts;
burns his sails and
dances bacchanal around the blaze
to the song of a siren
putrid on the salty wind
syrup wet like the breath
of a thousand hellhounds
braying inside ancient eyes
blinding light infernal
walking plank tongue rigid, rotten
and diving into the frothing mirror
The Celebration of Hunger
in this savage kingdom
fueled, fed, fertilized
a fledgling sparrow
wheezing a song beneath
that was once his cradle
plunge a knife into your skull
part the lobes like
a gray, fleshy sea
until there is only a void
Luke Usry is a writer from the Macon, GA area. He have released one collection of poems titled The Dandelion Killer, and his work has been featured in Flash Fiction Magazine.