ALLEN SEWARD
OCTOBER 20, 2022
apologist
screaming inside
white noise being
mustard breath
the glass spills as the
ears ring.
oh, be calm,
be cool
just breathe.
the brain is an ugly monster
the heart beats at its
door
and nothing is an
apology.
where trees are shaped like guillotines
we’d sing songs
of worm
and bone
as the cleaver dropped
the sound of thunder
was the sound
of
a slamming door
and nothing more
we’d never stop singing, bellyaching,
not until death
and even in death we’d sing
and bellyache,
a
hallelujah.
the fall of rain
was
the collapsing
of the sky
and we’d move on
into fleshy rooms and dim
the lights,
we’d make them tombs
and make weird noises
in the thin dark
and put on music
to dance to
but we’d never dance,
and we’d sing…
Allen Seward is a thirty-something poet-thing and mill-worker. His work has appeared in Scapegoat Review. He currently resides in WV with his partner and three cats. Allen can be found on Twitter @AllenSeward1, and on Instagram @AllenSeward0.