John The Baptist by Steve Sibra

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Bring me the head of John the Baptist

or, failing that

How about a phone call from Idaho?

There’s always room for compromise

In a room with no windows

no door, and no air

It’s lights out

and the little feet start their dance

the sounds of the living deaden the air

you remember the air? – of which there is none here

It’s hard to make demands

without oxygen

and nothing to eat but your mother’s lipstick

– When all is lost, that’s the time

that we finally try to bargain

When all is lost

we never ask for much; if we can just get a crumb

we can pretend the rest

oh yes

we always pretend the rest.

So please, if you will

Bring me the head of John the Baptist

with a side of curly fries

and an ice cold bottle of Coke

Because “It’s the Real…

View original post 19 more words

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