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The Ultimate AbuseTo Joyce Metzger's previous piece

After the Rapture

will rapaciousness crawl in
as big brass plays the jazz
notes of Bill Evans
accompanied by the melodic fingers
of Thelonious Monk,
the quirkiness of Elvis,
and the poetry of Jim Morrison?
what then?
perhaps the guillotine blade-edge,
razor whited to sharpened keen
by some s.s. rep from hell whose
desirous lips suck life history
from five people for a lousy
$250. lump sum death benefit
that wouldn't pay half the
cost of a burial urn.
there is a flat and thin
brillance tucked between
those lines,
next to the arbitrary intersection
that holds streets and avenues
together within the magical
creation of ordinary lives.
don't expect instructions for
how to open that glass jar of worms
from me... even ziplock baggies
refuse to cooperate on this
day immediately following
your rapture

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