s c i s s o r s, p a p e r, s t i n g e r s
A N N L E D E R E R
In a snarl of jaws, they flashed
from their dens in the crags.
Sparks shot from their sharpened decisions.
Their laser heels snapped in unison
They prowled the halls for more victims,
grinding their teeth on gnawed bones
in advance of the surgeries.
Wadding their clutches of damp dollars,
strutting their pickups, the heroes
conquered the early street.
They bit cigarettes between their teeth,
practice for bargain-making.
Their greed was infectious.
I wanted to shop garages too.
But the smells, from mossy cardboard boxes,
egg and bacon grease on faces,
smoke coated car windows, were the antidote.
The killer bees hummed, along with the cicadas.
The buzz saws and mowers finally dimmed,
as the long tongues sucked out brains
through the ears. The zombies, left pummeled,
spooned raw honey into their own craws.
The bamboo slivers shoved up under fingernails,
the still pools of blood in now shark less waters,
melted with the wax of the smoked out settlers.