“Grievous, Sour Teeth” is a Poem written by feature writer, Matt Leavitt. Matt has a published short story titled, “The Fisherman,” in the Mad Men Anthology.
I couldn’t tell you who’s screaming from the apartment next door. A woman lives there.
These are the screams of a man.
Mom said I should be more quiet when I come home late at night. She hears me make my way upstairs or to the kitchen. Fumbling like rats. There’s venom in her voice. I see the body sit up from the sheets in the dark. It’s absurd, its mother, but im afraid.
Young and in the way. Like a butterfly frozen to the 3rd rail. All lit up. Somewhere miles down those rails is the leviathan. God of the tracks, indiscriminate and certain. Metal ghoul, bigger than death. It’s coming now. And all the beauty in those iridescent wings couldn’t possess the small creature to just fly away. All the color in this colorless world could not move her from harms way.
Can you fill in the blanks? Accept the ______. Release _______. Never once did I get the chance to _______ you. These ______ don’t leave me alone. I saw it again last night. I came to tell you because I’m certain I saw it. It was ____________________. Loss Loss Loss Loss.
Entombed chicken, inside you is all I need to know. Your being is worthless. Your cadaver is so delicious, so much more interesting than you.
There is a fog here. It smells like pines and dirt. I shouldn’t be here. I feel the dirt on my feet. Wait I shouldn’t be here right now. It’s cold and I can’t see. Trapped under ice. This isn’t a dream, I’m really awake I’m not in my bed. There’s fog everywhere and suffocation. I want to close my eyes but I cant. I cant move. Dirt beneath my feet. Dirt and wood. Wood and metal. Bright lights in the mist. Its coming.
Oceans deep in memories. I can never touch you again, so leave my fucking bed. Leave this fucking place. Leave my fucking head.
In Salem they took mothers and made them chickens.
In Salem they put women to fire.
In Salem all the mothers were dragged into sunlight. Man has been on a power trip ever since.
Devastation and mayhem. It’s what all the kids are into nowadays. It’s in the milk. It’s in the cans. You can never get far enough away.
In Sodom, they wandered the streets like ______.
In Sodom they saw a little light in that small window.
In Sodom, man found angels.
And integrity became king.
This poem was written by Matt Leavitt. He holds all copyright to this work, nothing may be borrowed or manipulated without his full consent.
If you have any questions, email our Publisher, Willy Martinez at martinez@mindonfirebooksmartinez