by P.C. Evans

Whether writhing on a dormitory bed
In this cheap hotel
With a Medusan flapper
With her pubic lice
And a quarter of cocaine

Or staggering through the gutter
Transfixed by the pinned black stars
Of a street whore’s eyes

Whether my guts are teased
By the hunting knife
Of a psychopathic mind
My own shell-shocked blade, plunged
Into the sweating bar

When the dawn transpires on the cadavers
Of Les Demoiselles
And the effluence of the city is swilled
From their stinking limbs
And out through the locks of my mind

I see such a vision
Of beauty
The rouged carrion girls, asphyxiating
In bell jars, like brain-stem foetuses floating
In a formaldehyde sea
Or wildflowers rooted
In crumbling masonry
Cultivated by lover-boys
To be plucked for prey
And cast away
Consoled only by the flotsam of Africa
Who purvey a chemical Utopia
To alleviate the ennui
Of the children of the west

And then, like a dumbstruck Saul
On the road to Tarsus
I could almost fall to my knees
In gratitude
And assume the position here
And finger the stick
Of the ground-hurtling cockpit
Of this
Our yearning, churning world
Or sty



P.C. Evans

Kamikaze by P.C. Evans first appeared in Issue 3 of Bare Fiction Magazine (July 2014). This poem also appears in P.C. Evans’ pamphlet Cadaver Dog Cantos (Knives Forks and Spoons Press, 2017).

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