Saturday, May 5, 2007


Rotting meat has its advantages
Unless it is liver
In the orphanage where I grew up
Liver was not consumed by the chosen few
In its raw form it became to some
Within the precipice of the mattress
Soon thereafter flies would lay their eggs
Forming maggots upon the floor
Protesting voices like Portnoy's Complaint
Not I the culprits exclaim emphatically
As for myself my preoccupation was tobacco
Camel cigarettes had alot of meaning to me
But still I knew about the rotting smell
Meat upon meat in the middle of the night
To the sound of the springs that squeak
Clanging radiators drown out their sound
In the wintertime when it is cold
I am bitter with resentment
Warm weather silences the radiators
And the smell of ejaculation is upon my nostrils
Once again-
Institutional tiles on the floor
No longer reminders of the chess board
It is the place where maggots congregate
When flies seek out the smell of rotten meat
There I sit upon the sill in my room
Looking out into summer time
Waiting for winters gloom
I walk away from the vortex of delerium
Leaving those behind who walk into the spiral of light
I am a shadow who observes from a distance
Amidst the souls who clamber towards the top
Like insects who are drawn into the light

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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