Succumb, Glutton

Succumb, Glutton long poem

Photo by philcampbell

A hesitant day for fat men and old women
moving cautious but still slamming out the door
and like infidels calling down a brace of ice spears

exposed necks and those rounded shoulders so tender
overloaded bodies knocked down stunned by the hammer
find it so hard to rise slipping on blood and numb legs

I turn off the television – did these kinds of things
always happen – were we too worried about dropping the radio
into the bathtub and electrocuting ourselves

my family always decorated our Christmas tree
with plastic icicles and now they’ve become feral
proven themselves deadly enough for a city-wide bulletin

as I leave my house I check the siding above the door
for murder weapons the walk has been shoveled and salted
still I slide my feet through the grit

there’s bread and chocolate to be had at the store
three blocks away I can smell cinnamon on the wind
a taxi turns onto the arterial and does a pirouette

there are rumors in my blood that fat and sugar
will insulate me through what’s promised to be a long winter
when I open my mouth saliva plumes and freezes in midair

then I’m at the pornography store the come-on
of vegetables stacked into geometric solids has no charm
even the cases full of spread tender meat fail to arouse me

what I want are the bins and shelves full of pastries baked fresh
cheerful girls in long white aprons made whiter
by drifts of flour and accentuated by egg-wash stains

of course there are samples a symphony of shortbread
coconut nougat blobs hungry for unwary hands
lady fingers crooked toward my eye signalling – eat me

come to us they all say give in to our flaky texture
crunch chew grind us to goo then down to your gut
we’ll insulate you from holiday blues and job worries

walking back out into the snow and rising wind
the air has gone the glossy color of shopworn crows
hopping in squirrel guts in the gutter and calling merrily

I skid crossing the street but hold onto my shopping bag
fifty dollars worth of baked breakfast and a bottle of milk
I have a premonition of shame and a long recovery to supper

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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