Only thinking deadly
Mark A. McCutcheon
tonight becomes you
black as wine in the bottle
I don’t know what to say
I was thinking
I was a thinking knife set
do you remember little daughter
who broke both your hands for forming
your fingers into the fluttering
silhouette of a dove
I didn’t want to object because
I didn’t want to die of what anxiety
won’t somebody look in the drawer
where the darkest file grows
out of time surgery’s tight stitches
there’s only so much you can do
to kill a spider you can’t see
but the sated grey tick pulled
from the puppy’s neck
makes a satisfying black sacrificial stain
when crushed under your heel
we needed many interviews
to bring you up to speed
you told me to stop thinking deadly
you know I only think deadly
time doesn’t make things dirty
I have nothing to disguise you with
your tongue chunk and your bald spot
and your bag stab
only the large sarcasm database
who do you know with the go-to horns
that’s what they say in the business
we rob from the church
let’s go measure the churches
