Tricycle Swamp

Plastic oozing

darkened

corpses

shaping

the rotund

as it is passed

around necks

of sampaguitas

fresh among the decay.

 

Knee to chin

knee — battling

the road to

purgatory,

deviant to the white

tricycles vindicating

prices double

triple

(quadruplets)

to splash a way

 

In that quiet

afterthoughts

as winds rage

I stand alone

with my dinner soiled

under my shirt

just trying —

— fighting —

for that outer

peace amidst torrents

of blood

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