By Peter Magliocco

The faint, furry edges
of queasiness now
where the night reaches us
with its umbilical cord
constricting this image
of your mother, waiting,
with shotgun on stoop,
where the cat waits
with eyes focused on eternity
the cord fails to reach
in the vastness
of time’s undulating river
fish seek to swallow
some imminent ambrosia
the exiled gods sip
with bent straws,
where tongues waggle
over aphorisms
as sunlight braises rock art
depicting the prehistoric face
of buried truth.
Peter Magliocco writes from Las Vegas, Nevada, where he occasionally edits the lit-zine ART:MAG. Recently nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net in poetry, he has had work in GREENSILK JOURNAL, DEGENERATE LITERATURE, WHISPERS, JELLYFISH WHISPERS, POETRY LIFE AND TIMES, and elsewhere. His latest poetry book is Poems for the Downtrodden Millennium.

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