after Veronika Dianišková
No keys named Dove alive. Abel
knows, trapped in an alcohol drive.
Bougie zen tchotchkes of no vectors smite
nicely. Some call open fire,
capture the lucky drips.
A couture makes of a far off
owner. Hop a bomb train.
Tame, model some. Saw Loki
tick her off. A tip: go wildly.
Saturn smiles. Nothing
known of hugs. Ride them, the setting planes.
Asshole names, hard seas. Create, prepare,
hear me, pretty ovary. Known celestials
detest, nod, scar. True leaves croon and
divide. Pray over it. Avert the coroner.
Feel Night’s whore coming, a vital simmer.
Peppered nights accrue. Vipers echo pop rock,
never to bejewel me. Sad muse, never knew
necromancy. Saw no Savior.
This poem originally appeared in the print magazine Western Humanities Review.
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