Monday, May 2, 2011

Every Day of Her Life

Once she ate from the tree of good and evil knowledge
and sometimes she knows which she prefers
once she played a karmic agent on a dance floor with a handgun

She laughs at your professions of sentience
she wants to feed your soul to her dog
she laughs at the Negro nurses who don’t scare her in the slightest
                                             cause they’re
                                  looking for meaning in profits and pendants
                                  or the doctors, the patients, her memories made of metaphor
                                  the gibberish with which she speaks forthright

Her roommate is terrified, her son still needs to suffer
though she’s told them that it’s just a waste of time
so she learns to hunt for robin eggs and fling them from her branches
to prepare us for when we’ve lost our minds

--Jonathan Penton is the editor of and Unlikely Stories of the Third Kind. He has written four chapbooks of poetry: Last Chap (Vergin' Press, 2004), Painting Rust and Blood and Salsa (Unlikely Books, 2006) and Prosthetic Gods (New Sins Press, 2008). He is standoffish to the point of being unfriendly, which might be why he's so often accused of being an undercover cop, which confuses him because he'd expect undercover cops to be really ingratiating but he doesn't actually know.

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