Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/1PtM6b85sdw) 6.3.2022.
BETTER
Bitter flecks of resin
dissolve as the apartment
freezes, freezes
in this red country
I wonder, powerless,
if all this destruction
could have been prevented
plants left in their pots
glass and metal untwisted
stereo blood unshed
but the symbols
of my desire are carved
too deep into my arms now
I must turn
pick up a plant perhaps
and leave
something better than I was
at entrance
HAMLET
Genetics
passed on more than the physical,
and so Hamlet
appeared one night
as hail was stinging
the backs of rabbits
too stupid, perhaps,
to seek shelter below ground.
The years
have not been kind;
he, at this point, was little more
than a resemblance of Yorick's skull,
a figure languishing
in the corner, one eye
burned out, or stricken,
and not enough body
to wear his wasted finery.
What have you done,
he asked, what have you done,
then vanished, leaving nothing
but a pool of melted hail
and a breath of wind.
About the Author: Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Words and Whispers, Turtle Island Quarterly, and Door Is a Jar, among others.
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