Chad Rood

Editor back-issues, poetry

smoked…cooked

thick bones and hanging skin
are pinned under six wool blankets.

white skull covered
in red wet skin
soaks in soggy pillow.

oven iron
holds oak fire
as an alto woman’s lounge smoked song
cracks through a single speaker

a cigarrette burns
and sleeps moist
in a coffee can of butts,
buried,
smoldering in the swelter,
smoking like the steam
off a pot of simmering water.

a breath weezes
and a throat gargles.

watery blue eyes
slip out from under
greasy lids,

they wiggle
then freeze
then fail to see.

sensation to thought
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