By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan

Strutting inside a banshee’s scream
shirtless and hardly virile
burst blood vessels like cheery seeds
through the dermis
scraggly man-ape hair in unpresentable
patches

camphor bunking down in oil lanterns
mountain pass caravans bringing poppy dreams
to the dinner table

a prayer in the dark
a silent clairvoyance

throbbing kerosene temples flush with blood
sunken armada eyes in the backs
of paltry heads.