broken is fixed

dead goldfish float more gracefully
through the bowl than living goldfish

the chocolate melted apart in a woman’s
pocket from the watery heat of her thigh
tastes sweeter than the grid of its birth

an unread poem aches with all the beauty
of the poem opened at the ribs by scholars
looking for something warm to stuff into
that last inch of pain free space in their guts

all the greatest lessons of the flesh are written
in the long furrow-like scars that obliterate the
delicate surface of the skin in a horror showcase
of the butchered meats unified in a human figure

if the sandcastles on the coastlines were kicked over
at once, then there would be a few more lovers on the beach

bears do all of their best dancing standing still in the maleficent
snare of the trap, waiting to see if death will bring the big drum
no crinolines shine like the remarkably wild in a gore shamble

despite the expertise tucked behind the great beards
of all the sea captains who never manned a lifeboat
the names of all the shipwrecked vessels still sail on

the bullfight is designed for the bullfighter to
help the bull toss its blood in handful sized
bursts of confetti that celebrate planned agony

a wedding is when a man and a woman get all of
their friends together to praise them for the fact
that they intend to do the work of whores on each
other’s bodies even after one of them is a corpse

to shape the sculpture of the flawless other
one must shatter the heart and use a shard

to master the sport of swimming
one must drown after exhausting the stroke

to perfect the art of watching goldfish breathe their last
one must not be afraid to flush the toilet many, many times





[KJ likes to make poems a lot]

Copyright © 2012 by KJ Mallard, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.