By Jason L. Huskey
Alpha and Omega,
the beginning and the
Hot steam torque fills crusted tubes,
jogging corpuscles lapping fat
platelets about the tracks,
until the final pinhole of space catches,
love handles of chubby RNA
plugging the dyke; Carrie feels the tug,
her crotch knowing hell
is arriving before her brain
can jot out its binary code:
put down the goddamn fork,
her 112-pound frame flopping
across the dining room.
She offers little response as tiny fists
pound at her baseball boobs,
feeling out where the one hundred
and eight stitches will go.
Her brother sneaks a forkful from her plate
as the coarse medics curse the ceiling
for just one more minute to resuscitate.
He prays Heaven is paved with their mama’s
secret recipe. Carrie remembers none of it,
not the dinner, not the excitement
in passing away unsuccessfully–
just the white light of six in the morning and
looking forward to leftovers on Texas toast.