Swamp Hanging

Look here, our jury of conviction, 

He’s tossing around his blocks of mayhem

Find me in the devil’s playpen,

Riding on a blacked-out tire and 

Reduced down by the sweeping hell-flames.

Upon one too many howls that night

He’d yanked the dog, by the chain, outside 

The mouths of fires 

Pelican-wide in their drums.

A sanctuary of larvae 

Suspending under fronds. 

Mallards dipping

Duckweed on feathers.

Gnarled mouthed logs 

On the surface tension.

Look here, 

Him crouched in the stagnancy

Knees in the lily 

Like fleshy pads, 

With their veins all matted,

The white-hot crack of sulphur split me 

He prayed over the goddamn body 

He butchered the sedge, cleaving papyrus

Roped the feet, dangled it from the branches 

Doves came down to us with scrolled messages

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, 

They scorched up, 

Scooped below our cloud,

Into our atmosphere 

Where the marsh swallowed them down

Photo by Jack Ward on Unsplash

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