Fall 2017 (Volume 21, Issue I)
HOW I WILL ESCAPE
All the day’s unspoken thoughts
mill and fester about
until they notice me,
slinking toward a door
I suppose might be there.
They press in,
eager for an audience,
crooked and agape.
I hear the woman who tried to seduce me
selling herself to all my friends.
I see a thousand dollars in an open box
but a painter hands it to a priest.
Beside me is the woman I imagined kissing
but she is snake-eyed, covered in chain mail.
I murmur I’ll try again tomorrow.
In the corner I see Jesus Christ
spitting back my name.