john sweet
GOD IN THE FORM OF A SNAKE DEVOURING ITSELF
or the reasons she might give
for locking the boy
in a cage
for letting him die
in the basement
while men she'd never see again
paid to watch her crawl naked
across broken glass
or the 21st century
which arrives like a curse
my father's ashes
mixed with pollock's bones
and the fear of what
might grow from them
the way this man drives
two hundred miles with his son
shatters his skull with a hammer
then buries him in the woods
a small body found butchered
in a gas station bathroom on
the outskirts of las vegas
my wife asleep in
the room across the hall
the world defined simply
and too often
by the ease with which
beauty is destroyed
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