Slice your uncut nail
. across the cover
to justify craving
another. Deny this dumb reason
. you scratch moons
into the face
. of Hunger, gusty
Knut Hamsun an ex
left. Her sheets of telltale skin un-
. folded you, the rain-
bow zodiac of her
. solar plexus inked
above tentacles
tugging a ship untold depths. Deepen
. your mark: ply a bone
knife. Gut words
. worthless. You maul
volumes for the thrill
of boundless prices to peel. Your scabs
. itch. You require
new titles to plot
. against. Your book
arrived a mess of art-
less packaging and filled with hexes
. that reeked of semen,
torn out origami
. hearts and cursive
hair stuffed back in
a rush. Remember halfway to Folly
. Beach when a juvenile
heathen you loved
. to lay out Happy
Meals on pictures
of Noah’s Ark and break each fry
. in half to have two?
As flash floods
. upturned the blood-
logged Black Belt
carving a shadow arc to the Atlantic
. like God’s own
piss mark you felt
. stuck in it ages
with leviathans
abreast the minivan. Each drop jammed
. time and the wind-
shield’s road movie
. went static, the trip
a paradox between
states, a Welcome wavering. Ma blew
. smoke. You licked salt
from your fingers,
. used your worn hand-
-me-down white-
belted taekwondo gi for a napkin. Bit
. a nail sharp, stabbed
lion eyes and lamb,
. snake and the forsaken
pterodactyl but let
all swimming things live lives of seeing
. in your apocrypha.
In your daydream
. you stowed away
awaiting the sun
to cue your flying kick through the keel
. and the hole to gulp
the sea and the sea
. to gulp the conceited
zoo. You pretend
to read better now, know many bones are dis-
. articulate missives
of missed contexts
. and ghosts are dolls
cut from godawful
autobiographies floating atop dark
. histories. If you
have a beginning,
. middle and an end
you have a whole
and if the whole has roof and walls
. and voices to fog
memory it is more
. or less a house-
boat, sinkable. From
the distance of sun- sets, masts burning
. can recall pages
turning. Your boy-
. hood Book of Genesis
is pulp and rainfall
since has echoed flames as your eyes
. close those decades.
Go wreck. Go re-
. construct. You borrow
each passage
and another pen will in the end
. mark your fabled X
in a spot far under-
. water. Relish your salt.
This ancient story
wormholes any- body, and you
. forgot karate.
***
Matthew Bruce’s writing has appeared in journals such as West Branch and At Length and Cincinnati Review. He’s from Georgia, USA, but now lives, more or less, in Minnesota.