2 POEMS – Jeffrey Zable


May the burning embers twirl around your mustachio

and become a river itching itself into a fit of melancholia,

while the pumpkins with metal teeth

snap at the Christ-like pomegranates.

And when the eternal crying begins,

may the faces without eyes suddenly profess,

“My God, I have no idea how you found me!”

This while we read from the papers

our names written backwards in the headlines–

a collection of toys wound up so tight

that we spring to the edge of the world,

and never come back again.



with all the sickos lying in their own bodies

waiting for someone to turn them over,

set a place for them in the burning world.

Doctor, I said, let’s feed this one to Dino

as I believe there’s still a little meat on his bones.

To which he nodded and snapped his fingers

for the guards to hop right to it.

Dino now weighs 427 pounds and counting

while every day we’re pocketing a little bit more from the state

that thinks we’re getting ‘em ready to join the ranks of the living

somewhere beyond the walls.

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