Rodney Koeneke

 

#27

Legions of lesions on Janet’s hale liver
no god, she said, blunt as that.
Time for the little dreams, toucans
& cannonades,
Moon a pierced tongue
In the guttermouth night.

The body removed like a vacuum bag
From that chrome gleam,
             consciousness—
The dead part touches the live part and then
The whole thing, it pivots or turns.