Home schooled (poem)
Our puritan home / housed a ghost…
Our puritan home / housed a ghost…
It’s the season’s first frost tonight. / He’s never seen a more perfect you…
loopy on / wolfsbane / and organ / meat…
old farmhouse, long abandoned, / rotting and vine-devoured…
When this world floats dead, / not a microbe left to twitch…
Swamp Thing rises: / the water tastes of oil and plastic…
The sky will be strangely blank / without cross-hatched contrails…
never / discovered repeatedly found…
Conscientiously / the funeral home robots…
Lacking a body, they buried his empty chair…