Seventy-Sixth Entry

Alex Smith is writing this one with me before we go by the reading. Hope to see ya'll there.

HI MOM!

Here's my poem:

The lawnmower
went over
the yard of bats,

leaving cropped
grass and a field
drawn of flesh.

A sea of maggots--
quick everybody
get in my skin.

Inspecting further,
disemboweling,
nothing really in there.

Maggot face scrub
and shampoo
for the lost children

by the out of ground
pool, hair coarse
from months

of chlorine,
no black water
from the shower head,

they wash themselves
in the white husks.
they wear tusks

and dance the rain song
waiting for fire,
who's gonna show them,

the maggot tribesman.
I really like maggots.
The one in my foot

sent me a letter.
"I have never seen daylight,
I long blindly for many things."