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.