2007
Matthew Guenette
Playing Poker with the Gods
The Gods say raise your hand and repeat after us:
drink this kool aid, wear this fig leaf,
try on these rockets and missiles for size.
Is everything wrapped in a womb of red velvet?
Even the hedgehog? The Must-Be Gods.
The Gods of Bit-by-Bit.
I say these gods are killing my teeth
like a tray of revolving sweets. I say the insect's
mandibles should remind us enough
not to tip these undertakers on the way out.
Is every god a stranger? Do you just
want money as the seasons demand? One god
calls you a big sissy, another wears a cologne
called Tourniquet. Look: there's calcium bicarbonate
on your new white shirt. The gods
fat and stupid change their minds like pigeons.
Fortitude: testicular. Coleslaw: stolen.
Here among all creation, I get a splitting headache
because every night I have to come down here
and devour all these ashes.
Please, what am I supposed to do?
Author’s Bio:
MATTHEW GUENETTE's manuscript *Sudden Anthem* won the 2007 American Poetry
Journal Book Prize. Dream Horse Press will publish the book in early 2008.
He lives in Madison, WI, with his wife and two unruly cats.