In a Light before the Drape

N. Ian/McCarthy/Mad Bongo Maze

Mad Bongo Maze

not inside

this now-
veiled, doomy
embrasure or silted
over by a cake of
ocher wax in a
sand-cornered 
sleeping 
crate—

but somewhere

a cordial
outstretching, an
unblistered self, folded
around the sawdust girth of
two inline fingers—

some

memory of chalky
heat, the aluminum
snap of canned 
juice babbled down
wet furrows, and
the hard 
tilling of fatigue
into unseeded 
black 
bladders—

death is a

wet wing, drying
between ball peen
taps on a half-
cut furring 
strip, where
a tack tin
props the flat
gray radio

where

the speaker hole
gawps through
bearded
garbles—

there is the 

tongue that clicks
in time to 
this bad
chant

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Author: Sudden Denouement

A Global Literary Collective

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