a journal of fantastical poetry

Skin the Creature

by Bogi Takács

Skin the creature
in the shape of a pig's stomach.
Chase folklore with a stick.
Wrap yourself in
an embroidered coat
smelling of sheep,
flail your arms,
skin protesting the raspy wool.
Engage, profess, militate, resist —
embrace, smooth over, kiss, delight.
Show your thoughts in action,
turn your tongue inside out
so that it may preach
a Torah of departure.
Sing in the thousand-voice,
grab hold of your so-called destiny —
shake out its pockets for
pyrite and glass crystals,
giggle in the face of the preordained.
Adventures of the wakeful await
in the gaps of stories and verse,
in the pauses between each breath.

December 29th, 2015

web design © mitchell hart