Lost in Space
by Edgar Cruz
Abecedarian in the Interest of Death
Becoming clear to me that
Cream cheese and
Death are both things we hold in our bellies.
Everyone is lactose intolerant these days.
Fuck the coyote of indigestion,
Gobbling up our bagels and
Hiccuping our dead friends.
I wanted to tell them it’s a miracle that we don’t
Jam our heads to our knees or
Kick harder against the coyote itself.
Let me walk into that white with you.
Meet me in Oklahoma, which I’m sure is
Nothing like our wounded bodies. I imagine
Oklahoma is where death goes to scab over. But,
Perhaps death is more like
Quicksand than cream cheese. I never learned how to
Run from either, and
Someone told us that our bodies were boxed up for easy
Unless I’m mistaken, body rot is no
When do we become more virtue than boxy thing? More
X-marks the spot than crimson, more
Yard sale than
Zit, waiting to burst.