by Tom Saer

I have apparitions of a pillowcase
Stuffed with lion feathers                           

I have fifty pence from grandpa
To buy slow motion food
On the vibrating bus seat by the bus stop

I have pins and needles in my face
Dripping with autotune

I have a citadel of hair and glasses
Made from a pile of the slain       

I have a sword in her altar
Bleeding grapes from a kitchen tray

I’m better than you

I have a gunshot wound in my hind leg
from a volcano of mercy

I have a contract with my mantlepiece
Bathing my head in salt water
Letting all the reptiles feed

I have a disciple’s greeting
Soft and fast and weak
Bristling with water

I’m better now