David Z. Morris, “Parents

Parents

David Z. Morris

A sad clinger, them The super circus Circuitous hov’ring Over what they dear The handle clear on backstrap Hoist from danger ‘til test in absence fails And falls down Amen

But wait until the market comes The hellish summer sales Of wheat, barley, and yam Women in yoga pants and down vests Desperate to feed theirs storm Claw and punch like Oxen through the stalls, hoisting cabbages like dolls Ripping naked chickens from Each other’s hands hair pulled from scrunchies hollow rouged cheeks for men at home watching postapocalypso dance contests and rubbing one out as they starve