I made a triangle in a graveyard on All Saint’s Day

Its boundaries were marked

.                                                            by a neglected mausoleum

.                                                            by a smug green bench

.                                                            by a screaming knot in a tree

It rained torrentially yesterday

I stepped carefully on the soggy ground

A young girl kicked at leaves on a soldier’s grave

Where did she find leaves dry enough

.                                                           to

.                                                                        kick      ?

A sign instructed very clearly

Fake flowers are permitted



All Saint’s Day is Open Season for plastic petunias.


By winter my triangle had lost all of its leaves

Even the nearby pine tree was barren

.                                 Winter was harsh that year

.           The old mausoleum was neglected.

In the springtime my triangle woke up to birds returning

They were all vacationing in Venezuela

You must try the tacos

They’re to die for.

Summer saw my triangle awash in fierce flowers

Plastic Petunia had been kicked

Out of the party.

In autumn a woman walks around with jingle bells on her ankle

She has broken my triangle of silent reverie

.   I cast Jingle Cunt into my triangle

.              My triangle of death is acid mist eating her skin

.                                                                       We are all ugly meat sacks underneath.


The knot in the tree is screaming

   The old mausoleum is neglected

The green bench is smug

     Rain begins to fall                          .

 in the graveyard        .

on       .





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