Statue Scrap
Kick the statue’s crotch. Break a toe. Slap it in the face till palms bleed. Shatter knuckles gutpunching the sucker. Bite nose. Chip teeth. Butt the sumbitch in the chest till at last black out.
Wake up on the grass to the tickle of a fly sipping blood. Prop up on elbows. Focus, in the growing dusk, the roots of a dead sun…
Dreamed I forgot to stir; froze solid; a monster threw me in god’s own stir.
Hobble to broken feet. Catch breath as if myself had set the trap.
Confront creation. Bespit granite eyes.
Choose to leave the rain to melt–long after I pass–the statue. Move on into the night to pick, long as I last, the next loser.
