False Salute To The Dead
The toilet will hold you
tighter than any wife.
So X-out your eyes
with drink." Her words swam though the smoke.
I took seven gulps,
laid my knuckles
on the bar and pointing
at my closed fist, replied, calmly,
"Crawl between them, or I sever your chin."
She got stuck halfway around
my pointer and ring knuckles
and lodged her molars
into my cartilage.
I demanded of the barkeep
some safe passage.
He was all frowns
for my disposition.
Then, out walked the cook,
a giant metro sexual.
He crowbarred her
off my hand with a spatula.
On the debris strewn floor
of the dusty roadhouse,
she made small guffaws
that forced everyone's
drinks back up.
After a good stomping,
she grew into the woodwork.
We left her there.
Years later, the paranormals
can be found sitting
in large groups, Indian style,
recorders and cameras sticking up
in false salute to the dead.
Sean Kilpatrick's poetry and short stories have or will soon appear in over fifty magazines and anthologies, including: Southern Gothic, Exquisite Corpse, Snow Monkey, elimae, Juked, 3 AM Magazine, Stirring, andwerve, Unlikely Stories 2.0, Kulture Vulture, Outside Voices 2008 Young Poets Anthology, etc. His first book is forthcoming from Six Gallery Press. His blog features interviews with poets: http://anorexicchlorinesextoymuseum.blogspot.com