local_library On the Cusp of a Broken Day

by Stephanie Smith

Published in Issue No. 232 ~ September, 2016

The air is drunk

with unforeseeable events

and an infected hangnail’s golden glow

I sit on the couch

sewing together my flesh,

singing Sinatra out of tune

as the afternoon lingers

like a painful pimple

eager to explode,

as unwanted as a nuclear holocaust

on a sunny day

 

All is lost—

holes in our pockets,

frost in our hearts

And poor art trapped in a plastic coffin

that suffocates below the Astroturf

 

(It’s here we scream and pull at our hair,

unaware we are bald and aging)

 

How I wish the day was simple—

a fair game of war and peace

At least things wouldn’t feel so dull

I would deem the day acceptable,

shout it from the rooftop

with my sugar-coated tongue

 

I would kiss the Devil

for His heavy metal lullabies

that send me into fitful sleep

And the next day greets me

with unbridled bliss

at the tip of certain ecstasy

account_box More About

Stephanie Smith is a poet and writer living in Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared in such publications as ABYSS & APEX, WHISTLING SHADE, THE HORROR ZINE, ILLUMEN, and LIQUID IMAGINATION.