Broken at the waist

by Felipe Rivera

Where Nature and Sanity blur or consciousness,
A buzz and static, noise, and warmth
A perversion, pervasiveness of virility and dog shit
Crisp, clear, unobstructed,
From outside, inside like a zombie, headless
Chicken (in communion with the corpses)
A three is an orange, but more like a red
Thunderous monotony, a wild horse
Instinct and words that hide others, the true ones
Like an insect shedding with a heavy body
Clumsy, grinding, finding letters, sent and received and never sent
Not agile but just a single unit
Impaled with sloth
A single white pillow, smeared, heavy with makeup
And oil and stale, faint smells of resting
Heads of unwashed hair, faces
And muffled cries of (you fill in the blank)
That hair brushing her cheek, her brow,
Her jaw, her chin
Her eyelashes fluttering before