• Arnold Potter


    In phony fears, shackled and caged
    Trichoglossus moluccanus
    heart detached from the toil of hard
    work. Now, poison starts traveling
    from my earlobes, my frigid brain,
    my deflated, hammered-down waste
    of four chambers. Proclaiming law
    the Rodents leer; serve the crumbs for just themselves. Don’t leave a trail,
    cut off their tongues. The cheered system
    tampered with. Melt my lungs slowly–
    just leave the Fruits unharmed, scar-less.

    The Staccato

    a blackbird whispered in a blue, sing-song
    voice — “it’s about time for you to rejoin
    the stars.” Dried leaves start to unfurl, knowing,
    seemingly hearing the but one-sided
    negotiation. No, it was more a
    howling sound than it was an innocent
    whistle. The rock has withered but its strength remains
    pronounced in humble silence; stock flowers
    have woken up to speak odes in mauve light.
    “Have a safe trip,” we sing. “You’re never forgot.”


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