Evil
slips into the house
off the pages flung open in the force
of delivery over the gate, the barking dogs
flaying flesh and crucifying spirit raping a mother
in front of her sons and love
the father breaking fillings on his bonds
chewing his way to freedom.
Elegant cruelty, Hollywood style
master class in crime
sparks like static from the black flat
screentangle on the wall
vomiting violence into mind
spilling its flickering images and
fouled ink onto the face
of our time.
The rest of the day
I hover insecurely at gates
fearing every face that sees too much
drive
eyes on the narrow line
avoiding blows
of newspaperheadlines assaulting
me from trees and lampposts.
Dream of the day
when all boards will present
clear blank canvases
incessant selling silenced
and the breaks between songs on the radio:
soft white noise
…and I will open my eyes to see naught
but the still bright tree-lined street.
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